The Last Resort
by Alaska829Snow
Summary: When Snow realizes Gold is after Regina and Emma's truelove children, the family will do anything to keep them safe-including sending them back in time to the care of their former selves. [The (sort-of) sequel to "Desperate Measures."]
1. Prologue

**Well, it happened. The season finale nearly killed me and sent me into a downward spiral of swanqueen + mommyRegina feels. I thought a lot about the request for a magical baby sequel to "Desperate Measures" and this is what I ended up with. It might not be exactly what people had in mind but I hope you like it, anyway.**

**There are two time lines in this story and I think you'll understand it easily from the first two updates which I'm posting at the same time. But yell at me if you're confused. Also, you**** don't necessarily need to read "Desperate Measures" to understand this story, but it certainly wouldn't hurt! **

**As always, I only wish I owned these characters- and any and all mistakes are mine, since it's usually 2 AM when I write. Thank you wonderful Swen friends and enjoy! xo**

* * *

Emma pulls into the driveway of 108 Mifflin street at 12:11 AM.

It takes her _exactly _11 minutes to get home from her evening shift. She knows this concrete fact after years of perfecting her commute—after years of trying every last combination of roads from the station's parking lot to the mansion's doorstep. By now, she knows the rhythm of it all; when every light turns red—which intersections are the busiest at night—what streets to avoid in the rain.

She knows it all for one reason: because the savior waited her whole damn life to truly understand the meaning of family. And as entirely dysfunctional as hers may be, she spends every second she is apart from them thinking about getting back to them.

She gets out of the car, walks into the house, immediately kicks off her boots in the hallway and climbs the stairs. When she gets to the top, she quietly sticks her head through the first open doorway on the right. Amelia, her five-year-old, is fast asleep. The child's nightlight is on and she is hugging her favorite teddy bear close to her chest. Emma has no intentions of going inside the room because she won't risk waking her daughter; she simply needs a glimpse. The worst part of getting home after midnight is that she misses bedtime. And missing bedtime means missing Regina sing ridiculous songs about farm animals, which Emma is quite certain is the greatest sight in _all of the worlds_ she's seen.

The second door in the the hallway belongs to Charlotte, her fifteen-year-old. But Emma doesn't bother checking to see if the teenager is asleep in her bed. She already knows, for certain, where Charlotte is. There is only one place she'd be—attached to the hip of the mother she is all but a clone of.

And, so, Emma reaches the end of the hall and opens the door to her bedroom. She takes in the familiar sight of Regina sitting up in bed, glasses on her nose, reading a book. The savior has spent the better part of their marriage insisting that her wife doesn't need to wait up for her on nights like this, but she lost that battle years ago. _I can't sleep without you anyway,_ Regina always tells her.

Charlotte, unsurprisingly, is occupying the spot right next to the brunette. Usually their daughter is also awake and quite chatty—but tonight she is passed out with a movie still playing in the background.

Regina looks up and smiles. "Welcome home."

"Hi," she whispers back. "Should I wake her up?"

"Unless you'd like to sleep on the floor tonight."

"No way," she says as she walks over to the bed. She gently, and lovingly, nudges her daughter. _"Charlotte." _

"Mom," the girl stirs and opens her eyes, "you're home."

"Yes, and you're in my spot."

"When did I even fall asleep?"

"About an hour ago," Regina informs her as she gently rubs her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she frowns and scrunches her nose, "I missed half the movie."

"Not to worry, we can re-watch it tomorrow."

Emma gets up and walks into the closet to change—she reaches for her favorite pair of sweats as she listens to the conversation continue.

"What time do you want to go shopping in the morning?" Charlotte asks Regina.

"Whatever time you'd like."

"Can we leave at ten-ish?"

"Of course. We can get breakfast on the way."

"_Mom_," Emma hears her daughter call out for her, "are you going to come with us?"

"If you want me to," she reemerges, feeling incredibly relieved to be out of her work clothes.

"Of course I do," Charlotte promises as she finally gets off the bed, "my school dance on Friday, you know."

"So, in other words, you're going to pick out a ridiculously poof-y dress?"

"Maybe," she considers. "I haven't decided on the level of poof yet."

"Then I _better _supervise this shopping trip or you'll come home looking like a cupcake."

"Well, if mommy would let me wear one of her queen dresses we wouldn't have to go shopping at all."

"That's_ not_ happening," Regina interjects, "not for this dance or any other in your lifetime."

"Pretty sure none of those dresses are appropriate for high school anyway, kid."

"Fine," Charlotte sticks out her tongue as she lingers in the doorway. "Goodnight. I love you."

"We love you, too" Emma replies.

* * *

Emma stares intensely at Regina who has picked her book back up from the night-stand.

"Is something wrong?" The queen asks, without looking up from the page she is on. They are _that _sort of couple—so connected they can simply _sense_ when something is off.

Emma isn't sure she wants to bring it up—she is tired, after all and it's probably nothing. She knows she should just keep her mouth shut and go to bed. She isn't even sure how to verbally express the strange feeling that is suddenly overwhelming her. The nagging thought wasn't in her mind a few minutes earlier—but it seems to have camped out and is rudely refusing to leave her.

Unfortunately, she also realizes it's too late to turn back—when her wife knows something is wrong, she _will_ get to the bottom of it—even if Emma doesn't want her to.

"Does it bother you," she reluctantly begins, "that our fifteen-year-old still calls you mommy?"

"Why would it bother me?"

"Isn't she a little old for that?"

"She has two moms, what is she supposed to do?"

"Call you 'mom' and me 'ma' like Henry does?"

"Charlotte isn't Henry," Regina nonchalantly reasons, "and she's been calling you 'mom' and me 'mommy' for her entire life."

"Yeah, I know that."

"So, why is this suddenly an issue tonight?"

"Sometimes I just worry about her not being a strong enough kid, you know?"

Emma still doesn't understand the words coming out of her mouth—she just knows they need to be said. The frank statement causes Regina to place her book down and give up on the chapter she was trying to finish; she is now aware that this discussion will require her complete attention.

"The daughter of the evil queen and the savior isn't strong enough for you? Charlotte has power way beyond her age—her magic is unstoppable."

"I know she's strong with her magic but is she _emotionally_ strong, too?"

"Of course she is."

"I don't know," Emma remains unconvinced. "Isn't she supposed to hate us at this age? Teenage _girls_ are supposed to be hell—I thought she was supposed to throw fits and climb out the window at night to get into trouble. She should slam her door every once in a while and tell us we're ruining her life."

"_God forbid_," Regina's entire body nearly convulses at the thought. "That sounds horrible. I don't understand why you'd want that."

"I don't want it," Emma insists. "I just, I don't know…is she really supposed to want to spend her Saturday shopping with her moms?"

"I don't know what she's 'supposed' to do or what rule-book you're following. I just know that we wanted to give our kids the childhood we never had—and that's what we've done."

"I know we have."

"You think that because we both became strong by going through horrible things that our daughter is weak because she has a stable home and a great life?"

"No, that's not what I meant."

"But you're angry with me because Charlotte loves us? Or because she's not _rebellious _enough for you?"

"I'm not angry with you at all," the blonde softens. "I'm just baffled. I don't understand how _we _raised such a goody-two-shoes. I mean, seriously….how did _the two of us_ raise such a normal kid?"

"Stop _complaining_ about it. We've done a good job with a daughter who looks up to us."

"You," Emma corrects, with a hint of sadness in her voice. "She looks up to _you_—and the word is more like worships. Charlotte worships the ground you walk on."

"Not this again," Regina almost begs.

"What?" the sheriff flails her hands in the air. "It's not your fault you're her favorite. You didn't ask to be the golden mother, it just happened."

"For the last time, Charlotte _doesn't_ have a favorite mom."

"You're the one she always wants around."

"Then how come all she wanted tonight was for you to come home so she could ask you if you would come shopping tomorrow? She wants you around just as much."

"I'm just worried about her. I want her to be able to stand on her own two feet. Sometimes I think we coddle her."

"You think_ I_ coddle her," Regina understands.

"No, Regina—I swear..."

"I'm going to sleep now," the queen gives up and turns off the light. "There is no argument to be had here."

Emma knows the tacit well: Regina shuts down their fights before they get out of hand. She is particularly grateful for it tonight—because she doesn't want a fight, either.

All she really wants is the feeling of her wife's body against hers. She climbs into bed and snuggles up to her—the same thing she's done every night for sixteen years. And Regina doesn't deny her. In fact, she laces their fingers together.

A promise they made long ago to never go to bed too angry to hold each other has yet to be broken.

* * *

Early the next morning, Emma is awake before her wife. Actually, she's not entirely sure if she ever fell asleep. She remains in bed as she stares at the ceiling, feeling ridiculous for the fuss she caused the night before.

She sense Regina moving and automatically feels herself cheer up, confident she can fix this.

"Hi," Emma whispers when then brunette rolls over and opens her eyes.

"Have you calmed yourself down yet?"

"Yes," she promises. "_I'm sorry_. She's our first daughter and she's so different than I was at her age. I know that's a good thing but sometimes I don't understand her at all."

"Yes well," Regina's voice is groggy and dripping with sarcasm, "it's difficult to understand how someone could 'worship the ground I walk on'…isn't it?"

"Stop that," Emma pouts, hating herself for hurting the woman staring back at her. "_I_ worship the ground you walk on and you know it. I just wish she looked at me the way she looks at you."

"Charlotte loves you more than life itself."

"Is this how you felt?" She wonders, "When Henry…"

"Wouldn't look at me the way he looked at you?" Regina completes the question and doesn't need long to think about the answer. "Yes."

"Then I guess I sort of deserve this, huh? Karma's a bitch and everything."

"It's not the same thing. Henry wouldn't look at me the way he looked at you back then because I lied to him. You are completely imagining this entire thing with Charlotte. It's all in your head."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive. I know you think I spoil her and maybe I do…. but she is a strong young woman who couldn't possibly love you more than she already does."

"Okay," Emma accepts. "I love you."

"I know that—but you're seriously a handful."

"I didn't get a proper welcome home last night," she whines as she rolls on top of Regina and straddles her. "Which is kind of bullshit."

"That is not _my_ fault, dear."

"I'm not blaming you," she states as she leans down and kisses her wife's neck. "But I would like you to help me rectify it."

Emma finally gets the kiss she sped home from her midnight shift for. It is a few hours late—but it's still worth it.

Their faces pull apart, however, when they are interrupted by the sound of their door swinging open.

"Kid," Emma grunts when she sees Charlotte standing in their room. "How many times does this have to happen before you learn how to knock?"

"Sorry!" the young girl shrieks, spins around to face the wall and dramatically throws her hands over her eyes. "I'm sorry! It's just that Nana's downstairs."

"Did you text her the wrong time?" Regina questions, as she looks at the clock and gently nudges Emma off her body. "She's not supposed to be here for another hour."

"No, I told her to pick up Amelia at 9:30 just like you said; she looks all freaked out about something."

"Okay, sweetheart, we're coming."

"Clearly we are not," Emma mutters under her breath. "You can open your eyes and turn around, Charlotte."

"You go get your sister dressed," Regina instructs as she removes herself from bed. "And we'll go deal with your grandmother."

* * *

"What's wrong?" Emma asks her mother as she walks down the staircase with Regina close behind her. "I haven't had any caffeine yet so it better not be anything that requires brain power."

"I need to talk to you," is the only explanation Snow White gives—but her pacing, and the way she's anxiously fiddling with her fingers, signifies the matter is urgent.

"Make it quick, mom. Or did you forget _why_ you're babysitting? I'm going shopping to make sure your oldest granddaughter is a proper princess for her school dance."

"Not you. I need to talk to Regina."

"Uh guys," the blonde teases, "my birthday isn't for months."

But her mother doesn't laugh—in fact, she remains disturbingly serious.

"I mean, I guess if you need to start planning _this_ early," Emma continues, "I will go take a shower."

She turns around and darts up the stairs.

* * *

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Regina asks, after her wife exits. She looks at Snow and tries to read the woman's face. But all she can tell is that her mother-in-law is struggling to find words. "And day now, dear."

"Do you remember when we realized you and Emma had true love and Gold was infatuated with telling me how you were going to have my grand-children?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"I think I finally figured out _why_."

"Why he was obsessed with Emma and I being together and having magical children?" Regina lightly laughs as she tries to follow the jumbled thinking. "I already know why…it's because he's obsessed with us…he wanted us both for his sick and twisted plans before either one of us was even born."

"But…"

"I haven't been afraid of that man in nearly two decades," she cuts her off. "So why do you look like you're about to pass out?"

"_Regina!"_ Snow shouts—causing the mayor to flinch; the outburst is both unexpected and out-of-character, "you _don't _understand. The kids, our girls, are in trouble."

"_What the hell are you talking about?"_

Regina feels anger rise from the pit of her stomach and travel all the way to her throat. And she can taste it. If she's being honest, it scares her. Because it's been so long since she's needed to feel like this—since she's needed to defend the ones she loves from _real _threats.

It's been so nice, that the most she's ever had to protect her girls from is a schoolyard bully. It's not like it was with Henry. Danger no longer lurks in Storybrooke. At least, until now.

She wants to kill her wife for jinxing it; for spending the night prior complaining that Charlotte has never been tested—that she's had it easy.

All at once, Regina knows it was not a coincidence. Emma has always been able to sense when things are about to change. And she understands now that the thought, the concern, that their daughter isn't strong enough was not random. The thought was planted in Emma's mind by the maternal instinct she often denies she even has.

"It's not just you and Emma he needed," Snow tells her, "he needs _them_ now, too."

It's been years, Regina thinks, since she felt the darkness as such a tangible force inside of her. But she feels it now—darker and fiercer than ever.

"Well then," she spits out, "I can _promise_ this will be the last mistake Rumpelstiltskin ever lives to make."


	2. Lost and Found

**Here is the first official chapter. Let me know what you think and if there are any questions. Some information is intentionally left out for you to find out later. Also, this takes places after Cora's death but before Tamara shows up. :) **

* * *

Regina walked along the sidewalk of Main Street, Storybrooke. She wasn't sure why she continually insisted on visiting her mother's grave at ungodly hours of the night. Maybe, she considered, it was because it was the time at which the streets were as empty as her life.

No matter what the reason, she couldn't seem to stop it—she kept ending up there, without exception, every evening.

It was a useless ritual, she knew. It wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change that Cora was gone and she, once again, had no one. It wouldn't change that Henry was, once again, with the godforsaken Charming family.

But not for long, she promised herself. Because she had held Snow White's heart in her hands—and it was _black_ as the night sky_._ She just had to wait a little longer.

But, _damn it_, she was so very sick of waiting.

On this particular night, it was pouring and she silently cursed herself for not driving. She walked underneath her umbrella—but the wind was picking up and she still had about a mile to go until she reached home.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a petite figure standing beneath the awning of a local store. It was an odd time of night, she thought, for someone to be waiting out the storm.

As she got closer she saw that the figure was actually a teenage girl, holding a sleeping child in her arms. Regina quickly glanced around, looking for any sign of parental supervision- but the two girls appeared to be just like her: completely and utterly alone.

"Are you alright, dear?" She asked, as she approached them.

The girl didn't respond with words. Instead, her eyes traveled up and down Regina's body, drinking in the sight of her. Finally, their eyes locked and the mayor couldn't quite read the stranger's face. _But a strong chill ran down her spine. _

"What are you doing out in the middle of such a rainy night?"

Again, there was no response. For a moment, Regina wondered if the girl was afraid of her. But there didn't seem to be an ounce of fear on her face. What she saw instead was pain, possibly from the weight of holding a child in her arms and a backpack on her shoulders—or possibly from something else.

Regina looked at the girl and couldn't help but think about the night Henry ran away from home. She thought about how petrified she was—these two girls, she knew, belonged to someone. And she couldn't, wouldn't, just leave them.

"Is this your sister?"

"Yes," the girl finally replied—her voice a mere whisper.

"Are you two lost?"

"I'm not sure."

"Well, are you from Storybrooke? Because that's where you are."

The girl sighed—and Regina was unsure why she reacted as though the question was such a difficult one.

"I guess your mother must have taught you not to talk to strangers."

"Yes," she offered a quick smile, "she did."

"Well, normally that is sound advice—I taught my son the very same thing. However, you cannot just stand here all night because you and your sister will both get sick. We don't want that, now do we?"

"No, we don't."

"I'm Regina, by the way."

"I'm Charlotte. And my sister is Amelia."

"It's nice to meet you, dear. Now, is there someone I can call for you?"

"Um," Charlotte nervously considered, "Do you know Emma Swan? She's the sheriff, right?"

"I know the Sheriff, yes," Regina cringed at the mention of the savior—but tried to remain focused on the task at hand. "Do you need the police?"

"Maybe."

"Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you? Did something happen to your parents?"

"I'm not hurt," Charlotte promised. "I'm just really confused and I want to go home."

"Okay," Regina replied. "Well, would you like to go to the Sheriff's Station then?"

"Only if…"

"If what, Charlotte? What do you need?"

"Will you come with us?"

"Of course I will," Regina assured her. "You look like you need a break. Why don't I hold Amelia and you hold the umbrella? Would that be alright with you?"

"Thank you."

Charlotte handed her sleeping sister to Regina—whose heart immediately soared at the contact. It had been a long time since she held a child like this—and she wasn't aware of just how much she missed it. She missed being needed. _She missed being loved._

"I promise, it's really no trouble at all."

* * *

The very last person Emma expected to see at the station in the middle of the night was Regina Mills. When the mayor walked in with a sleeping child in her arms and a teenager straggling behind her, the Sheriff jumped up from her desk in response.

_"Regina?"_

She didn't know exactly what to make of the unusual scene. But she was acutely aware that her son's adoptive mother was grieving, angry and potentially dangerous.

"Ms. Swan, it would appear tonight is one of those extremely rare instances in which I am in need of your assistance."

"What's going on?" She asked, completely thrown off. Emma didn't know why Regina would come to her for help, especially considering the events of the past week.

"I found these two young ladies unsupervised on the sidewalk in the rain. Would you be able to help locate their parents?"

"Okay," Emma nodded, keeping her guard up.

"This isn't a trick," Regina coldly informed her, sensing her level of discomfort. "I'd really like to help them."

Emma's gut feeling was that Regina wasn't lying. And the exhausted look on the teenage girl standing awkwardly next to her made the story rather believable.

"I'm Emma," she introduced herself to the young girl. "Why don't you put down your bag and take a seat by my desk?"

The girl merely nodded in response as she followed the instructions.

"Are either of you hurt?"

"No," Regina answered, as she sat down on a nearby bench, the younger girl still asleep in her arms, "they're not."

"I'm pretty sure she doesn't need you to answer for her—but, thanks."

Emma watched closely as the teenager tensed up and crossed her arms, seemingly startled by the comment. But she continued her line of questioning, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible. "So, you two got lost? Are you from Storybrooke?"

But she was not given any sort of response.

"Okay," Emma sighed, already frustrated. "We can start small if you'd like—could you just tell me your name?"

The girl looked down at the floor and avoided eye-contact.

"Regina?" Emma glanced over to the brunette. "Do you know their names?"

"I thought you didn't want me to speak for them."

"Well, I'm not going to get anywhere if I don't know anything about them."

"Charlotte," Regina gave in, quicker than Emma expected. "And I'm holding Amelia."

"What about their last name?"

"If I knew that I obviously wouldn't have come to you, since I know how to work a phonebook," she mocked her. "I thought finding people was supposed to be your family business."

"Charlotte," Emma ignored the snide remark, "can you please tell me your last name?"

"No," the girl's arms remained crossed. "I plead the Fifth."

Regina inwardly chuckled at the sassy reply, but shot Charlotte a slightly disapproving look.

"Kid, that's definitely not how the Fifth Amendment works. If you're lost, I can't help you unless I know where to take you back to."

As Emma spoke, Amelia stirred in Regina's arms and opened her eyes. "Mommy," the younger girl mumbled. "I left my blanket at home."

"Amelia," Charlotte sneered, as she sprung up from her seat, "_shut up_."

"_Hey_," Regina scolded, "I don't think it's appropriate to tell your sister to shut up."

"She's just tired, ignore her; she doesn't know what she's saying."

"Don't worry, Amelia," Regina soothed, "we'll get you home and then I'm sure you can get your blanket. Your sister just has to cooperate first."

Emma suddenly noticed that when Charlotte stood up, a letter fell out from her jacket pocket and landed on the floor. Emma picked up the item, and was confused to find two familiar names written in script on the front.

"What the hell is this?" She asked.

"Give that to me," Charlotte violently snatched the envelope out of Emma's hands. "That's not for you."

"Then why does it have _my_ name on it? And why does it have Regina's name on it, too?"

"It has my name on it?" Regina curiously questioned, as she tried to keep Amelia entertained on her lap.

"Do Regina and I know your parents, or something?"

"No."

"You're lying. I can always tell when people are lying."

"No you can't, you just _think_ you can."

"Excuse me, kid?"

"Forget it," Charlotte back-peddled. "Just, trust me, you don't know _anything_ about me or my family. That's the truth."

"Do you go to school with Henry?" Regina inquired. "I must admit, you _do_ look….familiar."

_"Henry!"_ Amelia perked up as she playfully grabbed onto Regina's hair. "When is Henry coming?"

"Amelia!" Charlotte yelled again, as she stomped her foot on the ground. "_I told you to stop talking_."

"So you do know him then," Regina reasoned, confused by the antics. "Which means you _are_ from Storybrooke."

"And we probably do, in fact, know your parents," Emma concluded.

"I don't want to talk about this," Charlotte took a deep breath, and brought her hands to her forehead. Emma watched—and couldn't help but notice that the girl's eyes kept darting back to the mayor.

"Would you, um, be more comfortable if she left?" Emma asked, wondering if the former-evil-queen was a source of intimidation. "You could just talk to me if you want?"

"Do you think I'm afraid of her, or something?"

"Well, half of this town is. It's not such a crazy assumption."

"I'm _not _afraid of her—I _like _her. And she's been nicer to me than you have."

Emma felt lost. She didn't know what to do next. Her experience with kids was limited to Henry—and Henry had never given her trouble like this.

"Charlotte, please," Regina begged. "Where are your parents?"

"You guys don't understand, this is all wrong. This isn't where we were supposed to end up. I need to figure out what happened. You need to let us go right now."

"I'm afraid I cannot let you wander out into the night, dear; you're a minor."

"Yeah, kid…you're not going anywhere until you tell us who your parents are."

"You're not going to believe me even if I tell you."

"Try me," Emma pressed. "You'd be surprised what I believe these days."

"I think I'll pass."

"I'll spend the rest of the night asking you the same damn question," the savior refused to give in. "So, let's try this again, _what _are your parents' names?"

"Regina and Emma."

"Hysterical; try again,please."

"But I'm telling you the truth."

"I'm not in the mood to play games with an uncooperative teenage smart-ass, okay? You're talking to someone who has spent time in the foster system which means I would really hate to have to send you there."

Emma watched as the harsh words hit Charlotte. She had hoped the tough-love would scare her into talking—but, instead, they reduced her to tears.

"_Empty threats _don't really seem to be necessary here, Sheriff Swan," Regina intervened. "That's _not _going to happen, Charlotte, I promise."

"Mommy?" The girl shot Regina a helpless and desperate look. "Does that mean _you_ believe me?"

"No, I'm n-not," the mayor stuttered. "Believe you about what?"

"You know," Charlotte began, tears still forming in her eyes, "you told me you always wanted to name your daughter Charlotte because..."

"It means freedom," Regina completed—and Emma watched as all of the color drained from her face.

"You said that's all you've ever wanted for me because you never had it with Grandma Cora."

"I don't...I don't understand."

"You both sent us here to protect us."

_"From what?" _

"Regina," Emma interrupted, "why are you even entertaining this conversation? This is obviously some kind of severely screwed up and extremely cruel joke."

"But I'm _not_ joking! I swear."

Suddenly, Emma had a twisted thought. "Did Cora do this?"

"My mother died in my arms," Regina fumed. And Emma knew that if the queen did not have a child sitting in her lap, she would have screamed at the top of her lungs. "She stopped breathing and then I buried her cold body. You think she came back to life to kill you in the form of two lost little girls?"

"I've seen your mother pull some pretty insane things. And I didn't actually see her die, alright? I wasn't there."

"You know what? This was my mistake for coming here and thinking you would be of any use to anyone, ever."

"I just don't want you to get even more manipulated than you already have, okay? Why the hell did you fall for it to begin with? Your mother didn't even care about you. She just wanted more power and used you to try to get it."

"She _would've _been able to care, if her heart wasn't poisoned when I put it back into her chest. And where was your concern about manipulation when your mother manipulated me into killing mine?"

"Stop!" Charlotte shouted. "I knew you guys didn't used to get along but I didn't realize it was _this _bad."

"We're not your parents, kid. I don't know what else to tell you except that the only thing Regina and I have in common is that we've both had a rough few weeks. So, whoever put you up to this has a really messed up sense of humor."

"I lied," Charlotte ignored Emma and marched up to Regina. She pulled Amelia off the mayor's lap and handed her the letter in exchange, "the letter is for you. Will you at least read it?"

Regina examined the envelope closely before opening it up. She held the two-page letter in her hands. Her eyes scanned the words for mere seconds before she spoke. "This is…it's in my hand-writing."

She looked back up at the two girls, who stood together holding hands.

"Tell me you see it when you look at us," Charlotte begged.

"See what?"

"Just, _please _try."

"You...I think you look like me."

"Yes, that's exactly what everyone says."

"Regina, _come on," _Emma pleaded._ "_Cora looked like you when she killed Archie, or whoever it was that she actually killed, alright? Things aren't always what they look like._" _

"You said this wasn't where you were supposed to end up," Regina addressed Charlotte. "Where were you supposed to go, then?"

"Stop it," the blonde pushed. "Please don't fall for this; you're only going to end up getting hurt."

"It's all in the letter but… Storybrooke isn't safe for us right now. You were trying to send us back in time to right after you guys get married but before you had me."

"I'm sorry," Regina shook her head, "did you say _married_?"

"You think you had two kids with her for fun?"

"Did I have a lobotomy first?"

"Must've been a joint procedure," Emma added. "And does anyone in this room realize that I don't have the anatomy to get the Evil Queen pregnant? Or have you not had a sex-ed class yet?"

"She's not _evil_," Charlotte snapped. "And I'm the product of true love."

"Jesus Christ," the Sheriff laughed, "this just gets better by the minute."

Emma was officially beyond amused and partially wondered if she was in some sort of bizarre dream. So, she took the backpack Charlotte left next to her desk, sat it on her lap, and opened it up.

"Give me my backpack! You can't open that, it's mine."

"I'm the Sheriff and I'm confiscating it" Emma shrugged. "You could have drugs in here. In fact, I'm kind of assuming you do since you'd have to be completely and totally high to come up with your story."

"Charlotte," Regina continued, "Why isn't Storybrooke safe for the two of you?"

"Rumpelstiltskin."

"Yeah, kid—that's real original. You know, when I find out who you really are I'm going to…" she stopped in the middle of the sentence as she pulled out a photograph from the still-wet backpack. The image staring back at her was enough to make the room spin.

"What's wrong?" She heard Regina ask her. "What is that?"

"How'd you do this?" Emma demanded. "This picture looks real."

"Because it _is_ real," Charlotte told her.

"What picture?" Regina made her way over to the savior's desk. "That looks like…"

"Your wedding."

"Photoshop?" Emma looked up at Regina.

"No," Charlotte said. The girl reached into her back-pack and pulled out a second picture. "This one was last year at Christmas."

"Photoshop," Emma repeated, quieter this time.

"Charlotte," Regina inquired, "what's _glowing_ underneath your shirt?"

"Oh, right"—she pulled out the chain from below her sweater and held it between her fingers. "Nana's wedding ring. She gave it to me before I left. Pop used it to find her and she said that when you two came to get me from here and take me home it would help you find me, too."

"That's the same ring," Regina gasped. "That's Mary-Margaret's ring."

"Did I Photoshop this, too?"

"This cannot be the same ring," Emma protested, "because _that_ ring is sitting on Mary-Margaret's finger."

"I now officially have sympathy for Henry when he had to try to convince you the curse was real. I always thought maybe he was being dramatic about how annoying it was but I look forward to telling him I take it all back when I go home to my real moms."

"Henry," Regina whispered. "If Storybrooke isn't safe…is he alright?"

"Henry is safe because he isn't technically the product of true love. Mom is because of Nana and Pop….I am because of you two….same for Amelia. But Henry isn't because….well, _Neal_. Plus, Henry would never leave you two to deal with Gold alone."

"True love," Emma repeated out loud, as she felt her cheeks flush red. "You are the child of true love because future me marries the Evil Queen—a woman who has tried to kill me on more than one occasion and currently wants to murder my mother for murdering her mother?"

"She's _not_ evil."

"Whatever," Emma stood up. "Forget this—I need air."

The savior dramatically stormed out of the room.

* * *

"I don't think she believes me," Charlotte looked to a still shell-shocked Regina. "And I actually think she hates me."

"Well, I think you certainly gave her a panic attack."

"Did I give_ you_ one, too?"

"I don't know. Maybe mine will start in a minute."

"Do you believe me though?"

"I don't…I don't know what to believe right now," she admitted. "It doesn't make sense…but you do look a lot like me when I was your age. I don't know how I didn't see it at first."

"You didn't want to see it, maybe."

"Perhaps, dear."

"Maybe I shouldn't have told you. Do you think Mom—sorry, _Emma_- will be alright?"

"I think…. I should take you home," Regina concluded. "I think you and your sister need to eat something and go to bed."

"_Home_," Charlotte's entire face lit up at the prospect. "You really have no idea how good that sounds."


	3. Six

**Next chapter :) Hope you like! Any mistakes are mine. **

* * *

_Snow approaches the doorway of her grand-daughter's bedroom. The giant knot in her stomach churns tighter when she takes in the sight before her; she is certain it is the most heart-breaking thing she has ever seen, and she has seen an exceptional amount of heart-break. _

_She looks at her daughter and her daughter-in-law sitting on Charlotte's bed clinging to each other for dear life—both shaking, both sobbing. It's been an hour since their girls left, and the entire family has already fallen to pieces. _

"_I know," Snow whispers, as she approaches. Because she does, in fact, know—she knows what it's like to be a mother whose child has been ripped away by larger-than-life forces. _

_And the complex nature of it all doesn't seem to matter; the fact that Snow's daughter married the very woman who took her away is irrelevant—it has been for years. They are family. In a sick and twisted way, they always have been. _

"_This is an impossible situation," she states the obvious. "But, the sooner we all pull ourselves together and go through with the plan, the sooner they can come home." _

_Regina calms down momentarily by taking two slow, deep breaths. She makes eye-contact with Mary-Margaret over Emma's shoulder. It amazes Regina how many horrible things she has experienced with her former nemesis—from Daniel's death right up to this very moment. _

"_Henry and David are waiting downstairs," Snow continues. _

"_Waiting for what?" Regina inquires, because she can't seem to think straight or even remember what she is supposed to be doing other than trying not to collapse. _

"_They're going to help." _

"_No, Henry shouldn't be involved. Gold is...his grandfather."_

"_And Charlotte and Amelia are his sisters," Snow rebuts. "Henry is an adult who can make this decision for himself. And, frankly, you couldn't talk him out of helping if you tried." _

"_Okay." _

"_We're doing this together, Regina...all of us." _

_Regina gets up from the bed and straightens herself out. She looks down at her wife, who has yet to speak or move—the Savior is utterly paralyzed and Regina is quite sure she's never seen her look so frightened or defeated. _

"_She's right," the brunette addresses Emma directly, begging her to be okay. "Your mother is right." _

_Maybe she is, Emma thinks to herself. But right now all Emma knows is that she broke the most important promise she ever made. _

_That first night she held baby Charlotte in her arms she swore to never abandon her—to never let her feel as alone as she had—as Regina had. And as many times as she is reminded that sending the girls away was the only way to save them—the only thing she can see herself as right now is a total failure. _

"_Emma," Regina extends her hand. "We have to go." _

_The blonde doesn't want to move—or breathe, for that matter…but she accepts the hand, anyway. _

_Because that's the only way she knows how to push forward: hand in hand with Regina._

* * *

Emma stood with her back against the brick wall of the Sheriff's station. She couldn't remember how long she had been out there—but judging from the chills running up her spine, she figured she must have been in the frigid Maine air for quite a while. She found herself thinking about everything and nothing all at once—because she couldn't—she simply couldn't handle anything more.

"I'm taking them home now," Regina's sudden appearance jerked Emma out of her thoughts. She looked at the two girls lingering behind the mayor, the youngest once again asleep in her sister's arms.

"Why are they going with you?"

"Because I _want_ to go with her," Charlotte spoke up.

"Fine," the blonde bitterly accepted, unsure why it made her angry not to be the first choice. She didn't want to deal with this anyway, another crisis—another impossible event. And, yet, she couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling that she _had_ to. "I'm coming with you, then."

"Aren't you in the middle of an overnight shift, _Sheriff_?"

"I don't think you're my boss anymore, _your majesty_."

"That may be true, but I don't quite remember giving you an invitation to my home, and I believe that is one area I still have domain over."

"But," Charlotte protested, as she extended her lip into a quivering pout. "Can't she come? Please?"

Emma watched as every muscle in Regina's face tensed up. She waited for the queen to deny the girl's request—but no denial came.

"If that's what you'd like, Charlotte—then yes, she can come with us."

Emma momentarily considered gloating—but she decided not to push her luck. Instead, she moved on to the practical: "Where's your car?"

"I walked here."

"I'll drive then."

Regina openly scoffed at the notion and rolled her eyes.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Oh nothing; I'm simply marveling over the fact that Henry has survived so long under your supervision."

"Excuse me?"

"While I know your experience with motherhood is rather limited, I would've thought even an idiot knows you cannot simply throw a five-year-old in the back of a car without a car-seat."

"Relax," Emma defended, as she tried to hide the wave of insecurity washing over her. "I'm just trying to help, you don't have to be so damn abrasive all of the time."

"Why am I _not _surprised that your definition of trying to help is putting a child's life at risk in the first half hour of knowing her? After all, your mother's definition of trying to help involves an equal amount of well-thought out judgments."

"I'm only trying to make sure no more children end up completely miserable from living alone with you."

It was an incredibly low blow, Emma realized as soon as the words escaped her throat. She was almost embarrassed by how horrible it was—Henry, she knew, would be ashamed of her. She half expected to be punched in the face—it wouldn't be the first time they had come to physical blows. But Regina's eyes darted down to the sidewalk, and she was left speechless.

"Look," Charlotte nearly shrieked—the girl flicked her wrist while still balancing her sister on her hip. Purple smoke engulfed the space before them and when it dissipated a car seat appeared. "Problem solved: now we've got a car-seat so we can take the bug."

"_You know I have a bug?" _

"_You can do magic?" _

The two women asked simultaneously.

"Yes to both," Charlotte informed them, as a smile tugged at her lips.

"That's pretty power magic for someone your age," Regina anxiously noted.

"I already told you, I'm the product of true love. Magic sort of comes with the territory."

"Great," Emma sighed, as she pulled her car keys out of her pocket. "Because clearly what we need around this town is _more_ magic."

"I'm not allowed to use it unless it's an emergency, but you two are really horrible like this….so I think if the _real_ versions of you were here, I would have permission."

Emma thought that she was beginning to forget what the word _real_ even meant.

Fairytales weren't real, except they were.

Magic wasn't real, except it was.

Regina picked up the car seat and strode off to the parking lot.

Emma sure as hell wasn't in love with the Evil Queen, except that-apparently, somewhere out there, she was.

* * *

The Savior regretted the decision to accompany Regina to her mansion as soon as they arrived. Instead of doing anything remotely helpful, she opted for hiding out in Henry's room. It felt like the only safe space to escape whatever the hell was currently happening.

The door creaked open and she had to fight the urge to hide under the covers.

"Are you alright?" Charlotte asked her, as she approached the bed.

"I should probably be the one asking you that, huh?"

"Technically speaking," the girl sat down next to her, "I'm home—you're the one who had her entire world turned upside down."

"My entire world has been turned upside down so many times this year I think I've lost count."

"Henry finding you, finding out the curse was real, finding out your parents are Snow White and Prince Charming, falling through a portal to Fairytale Land, and finding out Henry's dad is related to Rumpelstiltskin," Charlotte listed. "That's five times. So, I would make six, then."

"Yeah, kid—I guess so."

"That is, if you even believe me."

"I spend 110% of the time _despising_ that woman, you know."

"Nana and Pop hated each other when they first met, too."

"I don't think this is exactly the same thing as Snow White and Prince Charming."

"That's what you always told me when I was growing up."

"Yeah, well, it sounds like you grew up drinking a whole lot of Kool-Aid."

"If you don't believe me," she spat, "then why did you even come here? You didn't have to."

"Because _not believing_ has come back to bite me in the ass on more than one occasion," the savior admitted, as she recalled the horror-show that was her life in Storybrooke. "Like, you know, when Henry almost died because I didn't believe that Regina was trying to poison me?"

"That's fair enough, I guess."

For the first time, Emma really allowed herself to look at the young woman claiming to be her daughter. She hadn't wanted to look, because she was too afraid to. But now, she couldn't avoid it.

What she saw was a stunning beauty; a petite frame, long black-hair, brown eyes and a bright smile. She was dressed in a simple pair of black leggings and a long, red sweater.

"You look a lot like Regina," she observed, as she studied her. "But I honestly don't think either one of you looks like me."

"Well, sorry, but I didn't have time to get a DNA test."

"Shouldn't at least one of you have blonde hair?"

"I spent my entire life complaining that I didn't get your blonde curls. But Nana says she's the reason Amelia and I have dark hair."

"Well," Emma sarcastically played along, "I'm sure future Regina just _loves _that her kids have my mother's hair."

"I have the Charming family nose, too."

She still didn't see it—but perhaps, she considered, it was like when she couldn't see that August was turning into wood; she could only see what she wanted to, what she was ready for. And she certainly wasn't ready for this.

"Maybe I should just be thankful that there is a future in which Snow White and the Evil Queen don't want to murder each other?"

Charlotte crossed her arms around her chest in response, much like she did at the station. But this time, Emma recognized the gesture—it was the same one Regina often did when she was backed into a corner.

"If I'm your mom, kid, how come it sort of seems like you want to slap me in the face?"

"It's just really hard to hear you, of all people, calling her evil."

"So she's different in the future, I take it?"

"Actually, the woman who approached me on the street to make sure I was okay seems _exactly _like my mother. The woman who threatened to send me to foster care doesn't seem like my mom at all."

"You really are not my biggest fan, are you? That explains why you ran to Regina first."

"I love you- you just seem really angry right now."

"Maybe I _am_ angry."

"You've never been the soft mom or anything...but this is just a little extreme."

"I marry the Evil Queen," she laughed, "and I'm not even 'the soft one' in the relationship?"

"She's not…"

"Evil," Emma completed, putting her hands up in defeat. "Okay, I get it. She's not the Evil Queen… she's just the super soft soccer mom I marry and have magical kids with—kids that like her a lot better than me."

"You and I have a really good relationship, actually. I'm turning sixteen in two weeks and you've been teaching me how to drive."

"Not your precious non-evil queen mommy?"

"No," Charlotte ignored the attempted wit, "she's a nervous wreck, she can't take it. She always worried something is going to happen to us if we're out of her sight for more than a minute."

"Is that how you knew about my car? I'm teaching you how to drive it?"

"Until tonight, I've only seen pictures of the bug. You got rid of it when I was born."

"When the hell_ were_ you born, anyway?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you."

"But how do Regina and I even get together?"

"I can't tell you that, either."

"Why not?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you stuff like that—I was specifically told not to. It could mess up the future, or something."

"Or maybe you can't tell me because it's a load of crap."

"Whatever," Charlotte sighed. "There's really only so much I can do to get you to believe me."

"I mean, it has to be something pretty big that happens, right? For me to change how I feel about her that much."

"I get that this is, like, a really tense time for you guys and everything. But do you really hate her? Or are you just mad at her for going back to Cora after you tried to fight for her?"

The question stunned Emma into silence. Because there _had_ been a moment when she really believed in Regina. And she still couldn't explain why she was so damn upset when the queen went back to her dark ways. Henry, she told herself. It was because of Henry.

"I don't think you really hate her," Charlotte insisted, "just like Nana and Pop never hated each other."

"Even if I didn't hate her, even if we lived in an alternative universe in which I was head over heels in love with her—there is one part of your story I_ can't_ believe."

"What's that?"

"That if I ever had more kids—that I would just….that I would do to them what my parents did to me. I would never….and after giving up Henry….if I finally had a family I don't think I would ever agree to letting them go."

"You know," Charlotte grinned, "maybe you aren't that different, after all."

"What are you talking about?"

"We talked about this a lot before we decided what we were going to do. And I'll tell you now the same thing I told you then: you might think of it as leaving me….but I don't see it that way."

"How do you see it?"

"That my moms literally bent the laws of time to make sure me and my sister weren't alone while they tried to save our lives."

"And future me believed that?"

"Well, here I am…. so I guess you did."

Emma didn't know what else to say. And she needed time- to process, to digest, to consider. "Regina would probably be pissed if she knew you weren't trying to sleep."

"Probably," Charlotte agreed, and took the hint. She got up from the bed and walked towards the door. "Good-night, then."

"Good-night."

"I'm really sorry… for being number six."

* * *

The last thing Regina Mills expected to end her night doing was putting a five-year-old child to bed. It all came back to her rather quickly, the bedtime routine. And it helped, for certain, that the exhausted girl didn't seem to notice that _this_ version of Regina wasn't the very same mother who put her to bed every single night.

Charlotte had, in fact, even asked permission to use magic to replicate Amelia's bedroom—so that she wouldn't know anything was different. Regina agreed—assuming the older sister knew what was best. And when Amelia requested a kiss goodnight, Regina knew the plan worked.

Now, as she sat on her own bed, she accepted that sleep was a mere pipe dream. Her hands were trembling, her heart racing and her mind a giant pile of mush.

She heard a light knock on her door and wondered if it was Emma coming to discuss the strange turn of events—events that once again bound them together as mothers.

"Hello?" She called out to the darkness.

"It's Charlotte," she heard a voice whisper. "Can I come in?"

"Of course, dear."

The teenager walked into the bedroom and stood before her in sweats Regina could only assume appeared by magic, too. She considered that Emma may very well be right this time—perhaps she was an idiot for falling for this, for believing for even a moment that these beautiful girls could belong to her.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Only my insomnia," she promised. "Do you need anything? Another blanket? Something to drink?"

"No, I just…I can't sleep, either."

Charlotte stared at her—and Regina got the distinct feeling she was expected to _do_ something. But this wasn't as easy as the bedtime routine—she had never dealt with teenagers—she felt lost and helpless—she felt in over her head.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked, because she desperately wanted to know the answer.

"Do you think I could sleep in here?"

"If that's what you'd like."

Charlotte replied by nodding her head—and climbing into the spot next to her. Regina watched as she made herself comfortable, behaving as though she was in familiar territory.

"Are you sad?" She questioned the girl, somewhat more awkwardly than she had intended it to sound.

"At first I wasn't. But now….maybe a little. Everything here is so messed up."

"What do I usually do? When you're sad?"

"This."

"This?" She asked, confused by the answer.

"Sit with me…talk to me...I don't know—just being here, I guess."

"That helps you?"

"Of course it does," Charlotte glanced up at her. "You always help."

Regina had forgotten what it was like—to have someone look at her with unconditional love. And as nice as it was, she wanted to make herself swear she wouldn't get used to it. Because she had been reminded, just a few days ago, how quickly people can come and go. Her mother was back, for an instant, before she was torn away again.

She shook it off and tried to change the subject. "Is Emma still here?"

"She's in Henry's room."

"I see."

"I know you didn't want her to come back but I really wanted to have you both here."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"I'm trying my hardest."

"I'm sorry your mom died and no one was there to help you."

"Thank you."

It was uncanny, Regina thought—how in tune Charlotte was to her thoughts, feelings and actions. She had about a million more questions to ask—but when she looked down again, the new and powerful presence in her life was asleep on her shoulder.

The rest of her questions would have to wait.

* * *

The next morning, Emma shuffled down the stairs at a painfully early hour. She was hoping to find a coffee pot somewhere in the mayor's kitchen—but what she found instead was Regina, already fully dressed, sitting at the table.

"Good-morning," she muttered, as she observed the brunette staring intently at a piece of paper. "Is that the letter Charlotte gave you?"

"Yes, I've read it about a dozen times now," Regina confirmed. "You should probably read it, too."

"Is there any possible way I could get a summary? My brain isn't awake yet."

Regina considered replying with a sarcastic comment about Emma's level of intelligence but ultimately decided it wasn't worth it. Not now- not when they had larger things to discuss.

"Apparently," she began, "Belle finally left Gold for good. And it has sent him into a full-blown downward spiral towards insanity."

"_Seriously?" _

"This whole thing is about getting her back—that's why he needs the power of true love."

"Aren't there spells for that, or something?" Emma sat down across from the queen. "Spells that don't harm children?"

"There isn't a spell powerful enough that could make her stay," Regina explained. "You can't…you can't bring people back from the dead and you can't ever_ really_ make someone stay in love with you. Unless you actually have a tangible part of true love which is where I'm assuming Charlotte and Amelia come into the picture."

"Jesus Christ, are we talking about sacrificing children right now?"

"That is precisely what we are talking about, yes. Luckily for you, you haven't exactly had exposure to the horrors of what it was like to live in Fairytale Land. He, on the other hand, still lives by those rules."

"You _really_ think he'd kill innocent children?"

"I don't think, _I know_. Or have you forgotten what he did to make sure the curse happened?"

"No, I mean…you're right."

"And if they really are 'our' children, I doubt he views them as innocent, anyway."

"But why didn't 'we' just like….send them to Australia, or something?"

"I thought you learned when you ran off to New York with my son that Gold is quite capable of finding people anywhere in the world."

"Right," Emma accepted. "So, 'we' learned how to time travel instead?"

"I wish _that_ part was explained, but it isn't—it only says that these versions of 'us' will come get them when it's safe."

"Does it say how long it will be?"

"No. But there's one section of the letter that I believe is in your handwriting that asks us to make sure no one other than family knows that they're here."

That _is_ my hand-writing," Emma confirmed, after finally looking at the letter for the first time. "Are there spells that can mimic someone's writing?"

"Theoretically speaking there could be, yes. But…"

"What?"

"I don't know how to explain it—this writing sounds like me, like my voice—if I didn't write this letter, someone who knows me extremely well did."

"So you," Emma hesitated, "do you...believe all of this?"

"I don't know. They feel like my children."

"Do you think, maybe, you want them to be your children because you miss…"

"Henry," she completed the thought. "Perhaps, yes, I considered that—and yet, Charlotte seems to know things, to know us. And some of her evidence is rather…_damning_."

"Yeah, you're right about that."

"The part that is obviously difficult to come to terms with is the part…."

"Where we're in love and married? Tell me about it. I mean, I can't imagine being able to trust you enough to, you know... I never know when you're just going to snap."

The jumbled statement wasn't meant to be harsh, it was simply the truth. And Regina returned the honesty.

"I find it impossible to believe I would willingly make myself a part of the family that has done nothing but ruin my life since I was eighteen years old."

Emma didn't fight back. She just wanted to know what happened next. "What are we supposed to do, then?"

"I think we have no choice but to take care of them. We can't very well leave them—or make them someone else's problem."

"And if it's a trick?"

"Then we'll have been tricked, I suppose."

Both of their eyes darted to the staircase when they heard footsteps descending the steps. A sleepy Charlotte walked into the kitchen and greeted them both with a raspy "Good-morning." She then proceeded to open the cabinet, locate a bowl a spoon, fill it cereal and milk and sit down at the table.

She took her first bite while Emma and Regina remained silent, waiting for her to speak.

Suddenly, Charlotte froze and turned pale. The spoon she was holding fell from her hand and splattered into the bowl causing milk to splatter on the table.

"I forgot," she stated. "I just…_I forgot_."

"Forgot what?" Regina asked her.

"I woke up in your bed and I came down here and you two are talking just like it's a normal morning," she choked out. "And I forgot that I'm not really home. I forgot that you're not really you."

"I'm sorry we're not the people you want us to be," Regina offered, as she put her arm around her shoulder.

"It's not your fault. I just want it to be normal. "

"What do you normally do then?" Emma questioned. "On a Sunday morning?"

"Actually, we were all supposed to get manicures."

"I don't think you're allowed to go out in public," the mayor frowned.

"I know, we're not. You told me that before we left."

"Mary-Margaret has nail-polish, I think. I could go get it for you?"

"That's the other thing," Charlotte reluctantly explained, "on Sundays we usually have brunch with them."

"With my parents?" Emma sought clarification. "Sorry, kid—but that's not exactly an option right now."

"No," Regina protested. "If Charlotte wants to see your parents, then she should. She should do whatever she needs to do to feel better."

"So you want me to take her, then?"

"We can all go."

"You held my mother's heart in your hand less than forty-eight hours ago, Regina."

"And if I didn't kill her then, I think it's safe to say I won't kill her in front of two children who call her 'grandma'."

"I can't just let you waltz into their apartment—it could start the third World War."

"Well, you're not taking them without me—when my children go to that apartment, they never seem to come home. Your parents already have Henry, they won't take these two from me."

"And how am I supposed to explain this to them?"

"Forget it," Charlotte interceded, "it's not a big deal, we don't have to go."

"If I can figure out a way to tolerate Snow White, Emma can figure out a way to explain this to her parents."

"Oh sure, Regina, that's easy for you to say."

"Did you think you'd be able to hide this from them? Or were you just planning to camp out at my house and expect them not to ask questions?"

"Fine," Emma conceded. "Go get dressed and get your sister, kid."

* * *

An hour later—Emma, Regina, Charlotte and Amelia stood in the kitchen ready to leave.

"Have you ever used magic teleportation?" Regina asked Charlotte.

"Yes, a few times."

"So it won't scare either one of you if that's how we get there?"

"No—it won't."

"Good—we just have to all hold hands."

"I know," Charlotte smirked. "Amelia, we're going to see your favorite people."

"It's Sunday," the younger girl, who bounced around excitedly, proclaimed, "brunch day!"

Charlotte grabbed one of Emma's hands and one of Regina's hands. Amelia completed the circle.

And for the first time, Emma saw it—it her so hard, it almost blinded her: the girls did, in fact, look like a combination of the Evil Queen and the Savior.

But before she had time to think too hard about it, purple smoke clouded her vision.

And they were off.


	4. Magical Domestics

**Thanks for all the reviews and follows :) I seriously miss SwanQueen a little too much this summer. Hope you enjoy this chapter. **

* * *

_Emma reaches the bottom of the staircase—she begrudging lets go of Regina's hand when her father greets her with open arms. She cannot find it in herself to deny his soothing embrace; even now she craves the parental attention she missed out on for so long. _

_Henry immediately wraps his arms around his brunette mother. He knows better than to let her think, even for a second, that she is a less valued member of the family—that she has to stand on her own. "We'll get them back," he promises her as he lovingly squeezes her petite frame._

"_Emma is not okay," she whispers in his ear, "she's just not." _

"_I know that," Henry says. "And neither are you." _

"_I left them," Emma mutters into David's shirt, still loud enough for everyone to hear. "I left them like you left me. I left them like I left Henry."_

"_No," Henry is almost yelling now, because he cannot accept the absurdity of her claim, or the uncharacteristic self-pity, "stop saying that." _

"_But it's the truth." _

"_If they didn't leave you—if you didn't leave me—we wouldn't be people we are today. Charlotte and Amelia probably wouldn't have even been born." _

_Emma wiggles out of David's arms and approaches her son. She sometimes wonders if he ever gets tired of it, being the one person that can ground them all in the reality of whatever situation they are in. She has always thought that if anyone deserves the title of a 'savior,' it's him. _

_Henry doesn't hesitate to make room for Emma in his arms. He clings onto both of his mothers—merely hoping to provide them with half of the strength they have always given him. He believes, wholeheartedly, they will get through this. After all, he has always been the believer. _

_Emma feels Regina's tight grip around her waist, and she is content to have her wife nearby once more. _

"_Seriously," Henry tells them, "I don't know how Gold thinks he even stands a chance against us." _

"_He doesn't," Snow smirks from behind, as she grabs her husband's hand. _

"_Exactly," Henry continues. "He knows he's fucked." _

"_Henry," Regina warns, because the vulgar word coming out of his mouth still seems wrong—despite the fact that he is an adult. _

"_Sorry, mom. But he is." _

_Emma lifts her head up from her son's chest, thankful for the familiar sound of their banter. _

"_I agree kid," She leans over and gently kisses her wife on the cheek. "Let's go fuck him up."_

* * *

Regina mentally scolded herself for agreeing to Charlotte's request to see Snow and Charming. It was a little disconcerting, she realized, how easily she was swayed by the innocent eyes of a child claiming to love her—_it was an impossible act, loving her_—and now she was under the roof of the very last person she wanted to see.

The only consolation, she considered, was that maybe she would enjoy this—watching the Charming family fall apart at the seams- with her, once again, at the center of it all. Because that's what would inevitably happen when Emma, one of the least eloquent people she has ever known, tried to explain this absurd scenario to her parents.

"Why is brunch at Henry's?" Amelia, who had been dressed by her sister in an obnoxiously pink sweater, blue jeans and white sneakers, asked. The girl also sported two long French braids, tied together with pink hair-ties. Her eyes, wide and deep brown, caused Regina to melt every time she batted her long eye-lashes.

"Wait," Emma processed the question, "Huh?"

"Your parents live in a house down the block now," Charlotte whispered, "but nobody wanted to sell this apartment so Henry uses it sometimes when he comes home from Boston."

Regina automatically smiled at the mention of Henry—she wanted to ask why he lived in the city, what he did for work, how often he came home, if he was happy—but she didn't have time because the younger child pulled at her pant leg, demanding her attention.

"Why is brunch here?" Amelia inquired, slightly louder this time. "Is Henry coming?"

"Um," Charlotte stalled, "Nana and Pop are painting their house so we're going to use Henry's apartment for brunch."

"Everyone is no fun today," Amelia scrunched her nose. "And mom's hair is too long."

"She's just growing it out."

"But hair doesn't grow that fast."

"She got new shampoo that helps it grow."

"It's pretty—but mommy doesn't like it straight."

"That's true," the older sister agreed. "Mommy doesn't like mom's straight hair but her curling iron broke, okay? Don't worry about it—everything is fine."

Amelia seemed to accept the explanation, because she took off for the couch in the living room without another word.

"You lie_ scary_ well," Emma observed. "But this kid is going to figure out something more is off than just my hair. Which, by the way, I sincerely hope is not shorter than my shoulders."

"It's not," Charlotte rolled her eyes, before walking towards the couch herself. "And when you figure out how to explain to her that you _are_ but _aren't_ her moms let me know and I'll be happy to talk to her about it."

It was Regina who noticed David entering the room first—and when she made eye contact with the prince, he quickly reached for the gun on his holster.

"David," Emma warned her father as she stepped in front of Regina and motioned her head towards the two girls, "_don't_."

He followed his daughter's eye-line and noticed Charlotte and Amelia sitting together—he glanced back the savior with a furrowed brow.

"Pop," Amelia ran up to him, embraced his legs with one arm and flailed a book around in the other. "You promised we would finish the next chapter today."

The young girl grabbed his hand and began to lead him down the hallway. He was stunned into silence as he looked back at his daughter. "Emma?" He asked.

"Please just go with her," she begged. "And I'll explain later."

"Okay," he agreed—but not before shooting Regina a threatening look. Emma caught it and decided not to let it go unaddressed. "Everything is fine, I swear. I just _really_ need your help right now."

He nodded, accepting her request and leaving the room with the five-year-old.

Only seconds later, Snow White sheepishly entered the room in her sweatpants. Regina was mildly amused at just how depressed she looked. It was, after all, what she deserved.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret questioned her daughter. "What's going on?"

"Where's Henry?" Regina demanded, as she looked around the apartment; he was truly the only person she worried about explaining this to. He had been through enough—and she wouldn't even know where to begin.

"He's at the library working on a project."

"Listen," Emma began, "something weird….well…you see…what happened is that…."

"Hi," Charlotte stepped forward, and walked over to her grandmother. Regina could tell she was disturbed the state Mary-Margaret was currently in. "I'm Charlotte."

Snow audibly gasped as the girl got closer to her. "You look….you look like a clone of…you look just like Regina when…"

"When you first met her, when she saved you?"

"Yes, _exactly_."

"So I've been told before."

"Except you also," Mary Margaret placed her hands on the girl's face, as if she was examining a portrait, "you also….sort of…look like a Charming?"

Regina wanted to run up and smack Snow's hands off Charlotte's cheeks. Why was it, she wondered, that the Charming family _always_ had to claim a little piece of everything she held dear?

"Yeah—it's the nose, apparently."

"I don't understand," Snow struggled to make sense of the vision before her. "Is this…some sort of….magic?"

As if on cue, the ring around Charlotte's neck lit up bright green and, like a magnet, gravitated in the air towards Snow.

"Is that? This is _my_ ring."

"You gave it to me."

"But how? And why?"

"Because I'm your grand-daughter."

"But then how come you look like Regina?"

"Regina's my mom."

"But who is your…."

"Emma."

"Emma is _also_ your mom?"

"Yes."

"And the little girl who just ran by with David?"

"My sister, Amelia."

"Why is the ring _glowing_ like that?"

"I don't know," Charlotte admitted. "I guess because it's yours and I love you."

"You're Regina's daughter—and you love me?"

"I do."

"Does that mean that one day she forgives me for…"

"Killing Cora? Yes, she does."

Charlotte's explanation of the supposed facts regarding her family tree was acceptable. But this declaration of forgiveness was _not_. It was just too much to allow. "No," Regina fiercely objected. "That's _not _true."

"Yes," Charlotte promised, unfazed by her mother's protest. "It is."

"And she forgives me for...the things that happened….before?"

"She forgives you for everything because you gave her Emma."

"That is_ never _going to happen," Regina spoke up again, "not in this lifetime."

"And I forgive her for everything, too?"

"Yes; you love her."

"Thank God," Snow sighed, as she brought her hands to her head and rubbed her temples. "Thank God it ends—I just…I need it to _end_. I don't want anyone else to get hurt. And I don't want a black heart."

"You won't have one for long," Charlotte hugged her. "I promise."

Regina watched the girl who comforted her the night before comfort the very woman who caused her all of her pain. Snow White might be this girl's grandmother, she acknowledged. But Cora could've been, too. Cora could've been Henry's grandmother. Cora could've lived and loved if not for Snow White's manipulation.

"Excuse me?" Emma intervened, apparently equally un-amused by the display. "I'm sorry, but_ what the hell_? That's your first response? No questions about how I can impregnate this woman? No questions about how children who look mysteriously like Regina and I appear from the future? No questions about why they're here in the first place?"

"Emma, I'm just too exhausted."

"So I have to marry Regina to solve all your problems? Did you ever think that I don't want to marry her? Or that she doesn't want to marry me? You're being so selfish right now and I'm sick of being the person who has to fix everything."

Regina felt momentarily proud as she looked at the blonde. Because Mary-Margaret had always been this way—maybe she wasn't evil, but she sure as hell _was_ selfish. She was always too selfish to see what was going on right under her nose: too selfish to see that Regina didn't love Leopold, too selfish to see how Leopold treated his young bride, too selfish to understand that Cora didn't have to die, too selfish to see that her daughter was drowning in a life she didn't ask for.

"That's not what I meant—I just, I don't want this family to fall apart."

The queen couldn't stand it—she had just promised Snow that her _precious little family_ would collapse. And now, Charlotte stood, telling Snow that it wouldn't happen—and, even worse, that all would be forgiven—that all would be well—that there was some sort of happily ever after in store for them all. All of them except Cora. Because Cora was dead.

"Maybe it does fall apart," Regina snarled, unable to hold back. "Maybe that's my new plan. Maybe I rip your family apart from the inside. Did you ever think of that?"

"But you don't," Charlotte assured. "Because you fall in love."

Regina wanted to fight the concept, but not the person promoting it. She didn't want to fight with Charlotte—so she kept quiet, hoping maybe Emma would do the fighting for her.

David, however, interrupted the scene when he walked back into the room, wearing the same puzzled face he had when he left.

"Is someone going to fill me in on what the hell is going on? Maybe starting with why Regina is in my apartment with my daughter when she almost killed my wife? Or why there is a little girl in there calling me her grandfather?"

"David," Snow approached him slowly and reached for his hand, "this is Charlotte."

"It's nice to meet you and everything," he addressed her. "But that doesn't answer any of my questions."

"Who does Charlotte look like, honey?"

"She looks like Regina—so does Amelia. And as far as I know, the Evil Queen never had any cousins or anything. But, even if she did, I don't understand why they're here or why they think that…."

Charlotte openly giggled at her grandfather's attempt to reason his way around the situation.

"Who _else_ does she look like, David?"

"Is this a trick question or something?"

"Just look at her," Snow pushed, "will you?"

He stared at Charlotte, who refused to break eye-contact with him.

"Em," he tilted his head "Emma. But I don't….."

"Are we ever going to eat?" Amelia barged back into the room. "We finished reading."

"Yes," Snow smiled, "would you girls like to help David and I cook?"

David stared at her, and she gave her husband a very clear _'don't question me we'll talk about it later' _look. The girls happily followed them both into the kitchen, leaving Regina and Emma alone in the living room.

"They're seriously about to pretend we're the Brady Bunch," Emma said, seeking solidarity in her outrage.

"This reaction won't last, you know. When your mother realizes what this would actually mean…..when your father has time to process the situation….you can rest assured, it's not going to be pretty."

"That is something we can agree on. She just wants to feel better right now. She's like hardcore depressed."

"We're going to give Charlotte this day," Regina instructed. "But there's only so much pretending we can take."

"Let's all remember that I didn't want to come here in the first place."

"Well then, Ms. Swan…please enjoy the following statement, as you are very likely to never hear it again: _you were right_."

* * *

Somehow, they managed to survive an awkward and somewhat silent breakfast before leaving with Mary-Margaret's giant box of nail polish.

Back at the mansion, the four of them sat at the kitchen table. Regina felt like her eyes might fall out of her head by the time she finished painting sparkly pink nail polish on Amelia's tiny fingernails.

"All dry," Amelia announced. "I'm going back to my book, now."

"She reads a lot, yes?" Regina observed, as the young child walked away.

"She's a genius," Charlotte laughed.

"Wait," Emma considered, "like, a_ real_ one?"

"I mean, she reads way above her age level. Actually, you call her Matilda."

"Matilda?" Regina asked. "What does that mean?"

"It's a movie," Emma explained. "The kid in it does magic and reads, like, adult novels before she even goes to school."

"Does Amelia do magic, too?"

"She's starting to, yes," Charlotte nonchalantly clarified. "It's your turn, mommy. What color do you want?"

"I don't know," the brunette said as she examined the array of options. "Black."

"No way, Regina," Emma interjected. "Come on, that's just _too_ predictable. I'm surprised Mary-Margaret even has black polish."

"Well, it matches her soul."

"I saw that joke coming a mile away."

"And yet you waltzed right into it—that's interesting."

"I'm a masochist, clearly—I do marry you, after all."

"What about this?" Charlotte held up a bottle of bright yellow polish.

"No," the savior genuinely laughed. "That's_ neon_—does she really strike you as a neon person? I hope even future Regina isn't a neon person—that would be weird."

"Who, exactly, assigned _you_ to the job of picking out _my_ nail polish?"

"I assigned myself, your majesty. What about purple? It matches your magic."

"I like it," Charlotte agreed, as she picked up a bottle of dark purple. "Do you?"

"Whatever you'd like, dear."

"It's not whatever _I_ like; they're_ your_ nails."

"Purple sounds great."

Charlotte took Regina's hand into her own as she opened the bottle. But Regina soon found her fingers trembling at the contact.

"Why are your hands shaking?"

"I don't know," she confessed honestly.

"Do I make you nervous, or something?"

Or something, Regina thought. Something like she had forgotten what it was like to have someone so casually familiar with her. Apparently, her body was physically reacting.

"Of course not," she lied. "I'm fine."

"But I can't paint your nails if your hands won't stop moving or your fingertips are going to be purple, too."

"I'm sorry," she offered—wishing more than anything she wasn't so horribly damaged—wishing that she could stop herself from ruining this overly-domestic moment.

"Mom," Charlotte whined, "_help _her."

"Me? What do you want me to do, kid?"

"You can always calm her down!"

"I'm pretty sure I do the opposite of calm her down, actually."

"Rub her shoulders!"

"Charlotte, no," Regina firmly objected, "that's not appropriate."

"Yeah, kid, what she said."

"This is seriously the twilight zone. My whole life has basically been one big over-dose of PDA and now you won't even touch each other. She gives really good massages and they always make you happy. What's the problem? Do you think you're going to turn into the evil queen by touching her?"

"You're kind of dramatic, aren't you? I obviously don't think that I'm going to get evil germs on me."

"Then just help!"

"Fine," the blonde exhaled as she got up from her chair. She stood above the mayor's shoulders and gently began to rub them. "Regina—you are literally the tensest person I've ever touched in my entire damn life."

"I've had a hard week," she managed to speak, though her heart raced at even more physical contact, "need I remind you?"

"No, but I'm seriously going to buy you a gift certificate to the spa—maybe you wouldn't be so mean if you…"

But then, suddenly, they both felt it—_magic_. Regina saw purple sparks flow out from her shoulders, she saw them radiate from Emma's hands.

"What the hell was that?" Emma jumped back.

"Oh," Charlotte realized, "you haven't figured _that_ out yet—have you?"

"Figured _what_ out, kid?"

"That you make magic. But didn't you already open the portal together? The one you fell into?"

"That wasn't me," Emma insisted. "That was a coincidence."

Regina couldn't speak. She had her suspicions that day—that the savior was the reason her magic started working again. But they never had time to talk about it—because Emma left—and then Cora came back—and the Archie debacle—and everything had gone so very wrong.

"I'm sure it was totally a coincidence," Charlotte sarcastically played along. "I mean _true love_ is the only magic strong enough to transcend realms but you're right I'm sure it was just weird timing that sounds logical to me."

"But…" Emma protested, "it _was_."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Charlotte shrugged, as she looked back to Regina. "Hey, at least your hands stopped shaking."

* * *

For the second night, Emma found herself alone in Henry's bedroom. She was thankful her day playing house was over, because she didn't know how much more she could honestly take without vomiting.

She wanted nothing more than to go to sleep so she could avoid thinking about what was going on around her—because tonight she couldn't help but to wonder—wonder about a future in which Regina Mills was her wife. And why her mother seemed oddly fine with the notion.

Even if it wasn't real—even if it was an entirely fake future-she couldn't stop herself from picturing it. Ever since that magical touch—the magical touch that resulted from having her hand's on the mayor's shoulders—she couldn't stop thinking about it.

The idea of Regina as her wife. And, even more so, the idea of having sex with Regina.

Sex that was so powerful and intense and magical that it overcame the laws of biology and produced children; children who were gorgeous and brilliant and could make things levitate by simply glancing at them.

There was a difference between lust and love, she knew. And she had never once denied that Regina Mills was one of the most attractive people she had ever laid eyes on. She could pretend that massaging her shoulders didn't feel entirely sensual to her, but there was no point. She was willing to be honest with herself; she could accept that she was attracted to Regina.

Because there was a difference between attraction and affection, she knew. What had Charlotte said? Something about their constant public displays of affection? That, she reasoned, was simply impossible. Affection and Regina didn't even belong in the same sentence—and throwing herself in that sentence, too? _Please. _Besides, Regina being hot did not erase any of the horrible things she had done.

And yet, that knowledge wouldn't erase the mental images creeping into her mind—the ones of touching Regina in areas far more intimate than her shoulders.

Lust. Attraction. But not affection, she promised herself—certainly_ never_ love.

"Emma," Regina's form appeared in the doorway, and the blonde's face flushed bright red. She suddenly feared the queen could magically read her mind.

"Hey," she sat up in bed and tried her best to act casual. "What's up?"

"Amelia won't go to bed without a kiss goodnight from _both_ of us."

"Alright," she got up, "no problem."

"Thank you. And thank you for staying here to help."

"I'm not really doing much," she admitted. But still, the genuine gratitude was surprising—and caused her to notice just now tired the other woman appeared. "You look exhausted."

"Yes, well, I forgot how draining five-year-olds can be."

Emma knew it wasn't said to hurt her. But, as she followed Regina down the hall, she felt a little like she had been slapped in the face. Because only one of them knew what it was like to have a five-year-old—and it wasn't her. She wanted to think about anything else besides that concrete fact.

"Do you really not like my hair straight?" She blurted out, without any idea why the thought entered her head or jumped out of her throat.

"Excuse me?"

"What the girls said earlier—that you don't like my hair straight…is that true?"

"I can assure you I haven't put _any_ thought into the way in which you style your hair."

"Right, obviously."

"But if you are asking me now for my opinion on the matter—I would have to admit that the curls seem to suit you better."

"So they were right… _again_."

"Perhaps," Regina reflected. "Or perhaps it was a lucky guess, since the straight hair is hideous—and you probably couldn't find a person on earth who would _actually_ like it that way."

Emma didn't know why, but she laughed out loud. It was a slightly delirious laughter that she muffled as soon as they reached Amelia's bedroom door.

"Look who I found," Regina spoke in a voice that startled Emma to her core. It wasn't helping her attempts to continue to hate the woman when she opened her mouth and sounded like mother of the year.

"Bedtime kisses!" Amelia grinned. "I need them."

Regina leaned down and kissed the girl on both of her cheeks and her nose. Emma copied her actions, though she was certain her attempt was filled with an awkwardness Regina didn't seem to possess.

"You forgot each other," Amelia frowned.

Emma recognized the panicked look on Regina's face—because Charlotte wasn't here to lie for them, to come up with some excuse. To say that Regina had a cold, or that they had already exchanged bedtime kisses in the hall.

The blonde could've said any of those things herself. But she didn't. Instead, she leaned in and kissed Regina on the cheek. "There you go, bedtime kisses," she murmured. "Goodnight, kid."

"Goodnight," Amelia replied, before turning over.

She walked out of the room—and felt Regina following behind her.

"Emma," the brunette spoke in the hall.

"The things we did for kids who may or may not be ours today was ridiculous."

"Yes," Regina agreed, "ridiculous, indeed."

For the first time in weeks, Emma noticed something besides anger and grief in Regina's eyes.

She couldn't identify what the emotion was, but it was certainly something new.

And, damn it, if it wasn't the most intriguing thing she had ever seen.

Damn it, if she didn't want to find out, _exactly, _what it was.


	5. Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Back

**Thank you, lovely reviewers and followers :) Here is the next chapter. I will always bench you guys 3 I hope you like it- things will take a serious turn now. And as some of you figured out, you'll always get a little piece of what's going on in the 'future.' Eventually, you'll understand what the grand-plan is. **

* * *

_Henry knows he has a job to do—and he won't let his sisters down. His job in life is to protect them, and that is exactly what he will do. _

_He carefully opens the door to the familiar shop. He considers that he's supposed to feel afraid—but also knows that he isn't. He has seen far worse in this world; he has survived far worse. _

"_Hey," he casually greets the shop-owner. _

"_Henry," his grand-father replies. "What are you doing here?" _

"_I wanted to tell you that I' m planning a trip to New York to visit Dad."_

"_How lovely for you," the man snarls at the mention of the son he spent a life-time chasing after—who still doesn't forgive him—who he could never truly win back. _

"_Do you want to come with me?" _

"_Is that supposed to be a twisted joke?" the dark one's head violently jerks up. "My son doesn't want me to visit him."_

"_That's not true," Henry lies. "He asked for you—he knows what happened with Belle and he wants to help." _

_The son of the savior momentarily feels bad about the manipulation. _

_But then he thinks about all of the horrible things the man has done: what he's done to both of his mothers—what he wants to do his sisters. _

_They could—maybe even should—kill this man. But they won't—because that's who is family is; even the former Evil Queen knows better now._

_They all know that manipulation is the far kinder road in this particular instance. _

_Henry recognizes that he wouldn't be able to do it without his father's permission. But even Neal understands that it's over—that he lost his father a long time ago. Neal doesn't want to see the girls hurt, either. Neal approves of the plan. And the support of Neal—of his two mothers—of his grandparents—gives him the confidence to follow through. _

"_When is this trip of yours?" _

"_Next week. I'll probably drive down on Monday—I got a few days off from work." _

"_I'll think about it," Mr. Gold agrees—just as they all knew he would. _

"_I'll take that as a yes. I'll see you then."_

"_Very well. And make sure you tell your mothers and sisters I say hello." _

_Henry can read between the lines—it's a threat if he's ever heard one. He wonders if this means that his grand-father can see through this plan—that it's all over already. But their plot is so well-thought out that he finds it impossible to accept. _

_An even if Gold knows it's a trap—he will still take the chance. Because he is a man with nothing left to lose. _

"_Don't worry," Henry flashes the smile he inherited from his mom, "I will."_

* * *

The sharp pain Emma felt in her neck quickly reminded her that sleeping in a bed made for an eleven-year-old boy two nights in a row was probably _not _the greatest idea she ever had. As she opened her eyes, she brought her hand to the tender spot on her neck and rubbed it as she mumbled "ouch" to the entirely empty room.

When she processed a relentless buzzing sound, she realized that her stiff-joints weren't actually what woke her up—her cell phone was vibrating underneath her pillow. She pulled the device out and sat up slightly; the caller I.D. flashed Henry's name.

She hadn't meant to ignore him for the past two days. In fact, she missed him—she missed him a lot. But she didn't know how deal with the Henry factor just yet. There wasn't exactly a hallmark card to give him for this particular situation. And she also knew she needed to talk to Regina before she—_or they_—could come up with a plan on how to best approach him with their bizarre predicament.

"Hey, kid," she picked up; although she didn't know what to say to him, she still wanted to hear his voice.

"Em-ma," her son whined, "where have you been?"

"Sorry… things have been a little, um, chaotic on my end this week. Are you on your way to school?"

"Yes and I stopped by the Sheriff's Station, which is where Mary-Margaret said you were, and Granny's. I even asked Neal. No one has seen you. Where are you?"

She wanted more than anything in the world to lie to him—because it was the easy way out. But she had promised him she wouldn't ever try to protect him that way again. And she had meant it.

"I'm dealing with some super sensitive information right now," she explained. "Sort of like Operation Cobra."

"Really? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm going to, I promise. I just needed some time to sort things out. Do you want to have dinner tonight? So I can explain?"

"Sure!" He said, excited by the mysterious premise. "Granny's?"

She was about to agree—until she realized it was too risky to talk about in public. "Let's just eat at the apartment, okay?"

"Alright."

"And listen, kid, are you cool with seeing your mom, too?"

"My mom's coming to dinner at the apartment?"

"Maybe. It's kind of a long story…."

"Of course I want to see her but….Mary-Margaret…."

"I know," Emma understood. "But you can just leave that part to me."

"Is my mom okay? She's involved in this? Whatever it is you're doing?"

"Your mom is alright—she just misses her mom, I think. And you, too. She is involved—but everything is fine."

"Okay," Henry said, a little quieter. "Well, it would be nice to see you two together."

Emma knew Henry meant 'together' as in '_at the same time'_—he didn't, and couldn't, understand the irony of his statement.

"Go catch your bus and I'll see you later."

"Later," he replied—before hanging up on her.

Emma put her phone down on the bed—but she didn't have time to so much as breathe before Amelia barged into the room, already completely dressed.

"It's Monday," the little girl exclaimed.

"Yes," Emma said, failing to understand the significance.

"I have to go to school!"

"No you don't," she tried her best to come up with a valid excuse, "it's a vacation."

"No," Amelia rebutted. "This isn't when vacation is."

"It's a special vacation—for you and Charlotte."

"But I _want_ to go to school."

"Seriously?" Emma asked, certain the child _couldn't_ be related to her. "Why?"

"It's fun."

"Right," She agreed, because she was playing the part of a mother – and mothers were supposed to be happy when their kids liked school. "Of course it is. But, um, this will be fun, too?"

"Mommy is still asleep."

"I'm sure she'll be up soon."

"She never sleeps this late."

"She's just extra tired."

"Why aren't you with her?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why aren't you sleeping in your room?"

"Oh," she realized. "Well…"

"Are you in a time-out?"

"Exactly, yes, I'm in a time-out."

"What did you do wrong?"

"I said a bad word."

"Which one?"

"If I told you that," she teased, "I'd be in time out for even longer."

"I'm bored—this is the worst vacation ever."

"Sorry, kid."

"Mommy's up!"

"She is?"

"I hear her feet!"

The statement hit her hard—because it seemed like something a child would certainly know—the sound of their mother's footsteps.

And sure enough, seconds later, Emma too heard the sound of Regina's feet against the hallway floor.

* * *

When Emma caught up with Amelia, the child was already in the queen's arms.

"Mom said we're all on vacation," the girl reported to the brunette. "Is that true?"

"Yup," Regina confirmed—as she looked over at Emma. "It's true."

"Then let me down," she squirmed, "I'm waking up Charlotte."

Regina gently placed the Amelia down—and watched her run down the hallway.

"Vacation, huh?"

"I was half asleep when she asked why she wasn't going to school," Emma hoped she wasn't about to get in trouble. "It was the best I could come up with."

"Not bad," Regina gave her credit. "Although now we're going to need to find a way to keep them entertained all day."

"I guess it's a good thing your house is so big?"

"Trust me, dear, it's going to feel a lot smaller once you know you can't leave."

Emma sensed something deeper—maybe even darker—to the comment. But she wasn't going to ask. Instead, she seamlessly changed the subject, "Henry called."

"He did?"

"He was wondering why we disappeared."

"You—he was wondering why _you_ disappeared—he's used to going days without seeing me by now."

"I told him that I was going to come over for dinner tonight and I told him you were probably coming."

"You did? What did he say?"

"I mean, he was obviously a little bit confused."

"I'm quite certain he's going to learn a new meaning of the word_ confused _if we show up to dinner with his 'younger' sisters."

"I know. But we also can't lie to him."

"I had no intentions of lying to him," Regina snapped.

"The thing is I also don't know how to tell him the truth. Or, you know, whatever this actually is."

"Neither do I."

"I guess if we just…present a united front…and tell him what happened and what we know so far…maybe it will be fine?"

"Maybe," Regina considered. "Will your parents be there?"

"I mean, it's their apartment—so, I guess?"

"Very well," the mayor accepted without protest or argument. "I'm going to go make breakfast now; feel free to use my shower if you'd like."

* * *

She had only turned her back for a moment—to do the breakfast dishes—but now Regina seemed to have lost every single person who was supposed to be in her house.

"Hello?" She called up the stairs, after searching the entire bottom floor. Frustrated, she marched back into the kitchen—certain they couldn't have gone too far.

Suddenly, she heard it—the sound of laughter originating from her yard. She ran to the back door and spotted Emma Swan chasing the two girls around in what looked like a rather intense game of tag.

"Emma," Regina called—as she opened the door, "it's freezing out—bring them inside right now."

Emma and Charlotte jogged over to her—both sporting red cheeks and chapped lips.

"You'll thank me when Amelia is too tired to ask why half of her stuff is missing from her room," Emma reasoned. "Besides, a little cold air never killed anyone."

"It killed William Henry Harrison," Charlotte quipped, as she playfully leaned against the blonde.

"Huh?" Emma replied.

"The ninth President?" Charlotte clarified. "He died of pneumonia a month after his inauguration because he gave his speech outside. So, technically, cold air killed him."

Regina grinned proudly and she stifled her own laughter.

"Oh, so Amelia's not the only genius?" Emma asked. "You're one, too?"

"Or maybe I just pay attention in school."

"Well, that's just great _Sabrina the Teenage Witch_ but the only problem with that argument is that now," the sheriff smacked her hand against the girl, "you're it."

"No," Charlotte's first reaction to being tagged by her mom was to whack her own hand on Regina's shoulder and scream "I am not."

"Uh oh…I'm not so sure if tagging _her majesty_ was the best idea, kid."

"I'm not playing," the brunette surrendered. "I merely came out here to yell at you for having poor judgment."

"Maybe you just know you can't catch us in those ridiculous boots?"

"Did you not hear Charlotte? I don't want any of us to end up like the dead president."

"I guess the game is over because _someone_ is afraid to lose."

"That's it," Regina snarled, "you will pay."

"Charlotte," Emma gulped, "_run_."

* * *

Regina opened the door to her bedroom and found Charlotte sitting on her bed. "Clearly you're not trying very hard at _this_ game," she observed.

"Yeah, well, hide-and-seek is stupid."

"I agree wholeheartedly. Help me look so we can put an end to it quickly?"

"I can do better than that," she smirked. "I can help you win—because I know where Mom is."

"You know where Emma is hiding?" Regina repeated the savior's name, still not entirely used to hearing her called _mom._

"She always hides in the same spot because she finds it impressive that she's a grown woman who can fit herself in the kitchen cabinet under the sink."

"How mature," Regina mocked. "I'm torn between finding her and leaving her there for the rest of the day so I can have some peace and quiet."

"Her oxygen might run out."

"I suppose we should go get her then."

They walked down the stairs and into the kitchen—Regina bent down and opened the cabinet door. The sight of the sheriff scrunched up, holding her knees to her chest was more amusing than she cared to admit—and, frankly, she was having more fun being juvenile than she cared to admit.

"Damn it," Emma muttered, when she realized she had been caught. "This is such a good spot."

"You've lost to me _twice _today, dear," Regina said, as she offered Emma a helping hand. "Now please remove yourself from my cabinet"

"Where's Amelia?" Emma questioned, as she stood up and straightened herself out. "That kid is tiny and this could literally take all day."

"She's probably cheating with magic—she likes to use that stupid invisibility spell."

"She can already do that?" Regina anxiously questioned.

"She learned like two months ago and she still thinks it's the coolest thing ever. I was doing that spell at three years old, but whatever."

Regina and Emma exchanged a look. Charlotte snapped her fingers and suddenly, Amelia appeared—sitting at the kitchen table coloring on a napkin.

"What the hell did she just do?" Emma leaned over to Regina.

"She reversed the spell, dear."

"Amelia, you're a cheater," Charlotte scolded. "You know better than that."

"Sorry," the girl apathetically offered. "It's mom's turn to be the finder."

"Um, no," the older sister quickly replied, "I think it's time for a new game."

"Why don't you want me to have a turn, kid?"

"Because," she whispered, "Amelia will wonder why you're not playing like you usually do."

"How do I usually play?"

"You run around the house screaming '_I will always find you' _until mommy gets so angry she comes out of her hiding place and you win by default."

"You're right," Emma concluded, "it's definitely time we find a new game."

* * *

Regina was torn—on the one hand, she was excited to see Henry. It had been too long since she had time with her son—and she ached for his presence in the days following her mother's death. However, she had no desire to see him at the Charming family apartment—nor did she know how she was going to explain the two girls she was bringing to dinner.

For two women who were supposedly one day in love and married, Regina thought they were horrible communicators. They still hadn't discussed how they would tell him—other than that they would be 'honest.' She was beginning to panic—to fear that things with her son would end up worse—if that was even possible.

When the four of them arrived in a cloud of purple smoke, dinner was already waiting on the table.

"He's on his way home," Snow White told them. "You can sit down."

Regina took her place at the table—realizing she didn't have an ounce of an appetite. She would try to eat something, she told herself—because she thought it would look suspicious if she didn't.

When Henry walked in the door, she felt the lump in her throat triple in size. Her son looked around the room at the strange gathering of important people in his life—and at the two strangers in their midst.

"Henry," Mary-Margaret greeted him first, "we have a few dinner guests tonight."

"That's my brother's name," Amelia observed as she climbed up onto a chair. "Henry."

"Cool," he stated simply in reply.

"Oh my God," Charlotte openly gawked at the child; she turned to Regina and whispered, "he's _so_ cute—and he's _so_ little."

"Emma," Henry focused his attention on his biological mother, "what's going on?"

It hurt—that he hadn't even acknowledged her. But there was nothing Regina could do about it—and a seemingly all-knowing Charlotte squeezed her hand under the table.

"We'll talk after dinner, kid. Let's just eat, alright?"

"Okay," he quickly agreed. "I'm starving."

* * *

After a dinner that consisted mostly of Henry and Amelia talking—an awe-struck Charlotte watching her brother—and the adults awkwardly staring at each other—the night took a more serious turn.

Amelia fell asleep—the result of what Regina knew was a sugar crash—which gave them the perfect opportunity to talk to Henry. The mayor had offered Charlotte a chance to leave—to go sit with her sister—but the girl had opted to stay, all too intrigued by situation to exit.

Emma took the lead—and she did exactly what she had proposed earlier in the day—she calmly relayed the story of the last forty-eight hours to Henry. When she finished, she reiterated that _they _wanted to tell him the truth, even though _they _didn't have all the answers. Regina was impressed with the way the blonde walked the fine line between being honest with Henry about their confusion—and avoiding insulting Charlotte with their underlying uncertainty.

"So," Henry addressed Charlotte directly, "you're from the future?"

"Yes—I am."

"And in the future Emma and my mom _get married_?"

"Yes."

"So, I'm older than you?"

"You are—just not at the moment."

"That's weird."

"Our mom's parents are the same age as her—shouldn't you be used to _weird _by now?"

"I think you're lying."

Regina wasn't surprised that her son didn't accept the strange tale—it was, after all, one of the most far-fetched things she had ever heard. But she was surprised at the grace with which Charlotte handled his response.

"I get why you might think that—but I'm definitely not lying."

"My dad's back in town."

"I know."

"And Emma…"

"She doesn't love Neal that way."

"Charlotte's got a point there," Emma interjected. "I'm not getting back together with your dad."

"No," the boy protested, "he's your _true love_."

"He's like really, really not mom's true love, Henry."

"You don't love my Dad, Emma?"

"I love him for giving me you," Emma softly clarified, "but there's a different kind of love…I guess you can call it true love, if you want—and I don't have that with Neal—not anymore and not ever again."

"You have it with my mom, though?"

"No, obviously not right now."

"But you're going to? In the future?"

"Apparently, it's a possibility."

"Something must've gone wrong," Henry looked at Regina suspiciously, and she physically cringed at his gaze. "Like, a spell…or another curse, or something."

"My existence is a curse?" Charlotte asked, failing to hide how the words hurt. "Your two moms falling in love is a curse?"

"I'm sorry," Henry halfheartedly muttered. "You seem really nice and everything—but Emma and my mom _can't_ end up together."

"Henry's right," David spoke up—and Regina knew that any semblance of civility was about to fall apart. "I know my wife would like to _think_ that we can all somehow live happily ever after, but I don't want to pretend that it's a possibility—it doesn't make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Charlotte insisted. "You're just thinking about it the wrong way."

"Blood feuds that go back generations don't just end."

"They can if everyone involved wants them too."

"Even if we forgave her," David continued, while Regina tried to ignore being talked about as if she wasn't in the room, "how the hell could we possibly forget?"

"Maybe because more important things happen—things that bring everyone together?"

"How could we forget all of the hell we've been put through when we didn't do anything to deserve it?"

"David," Snow begged, her voice a mere whimper, "please _don't_."

The table was silent—Regina's eyes traveled to Emma. And the queen understood what would happen next—she knew in her gut that it was about to happen again—the inevitable betrayal.

"I mean," Emma said, "he's sort of got a rational point."

"So much for a united front," Regina scoffed, unable to hold back any longer. "That didn't even last until dessert."

"Regina, I just meant that…"

"It's always two steps forward, three steps back with you—isn't it?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That every time we—that we get anywhere," Regina struggled to find words to express how she was feeling. Mostly, she didn't want to admit how much it upset her—the way only Emma Swan could upset her. Because Emma was the woman who was always, almost on her side—but who, ultimately, couldn't seem to get there completely. "Just forget it."

"You can't ever care about me, and you know it," Emma tried to reason. "You still blame Mary-Margaret for your finance dying, right? And she did just kill your mom…and your mom killed her mom…and _you_ killed her dad…"

Out of the corner of her eye, Regina saw Charlotte dramatically stand up—when she looked over at the girl she immediately recognized that something had deeply struck a nerve—that something had snapped.

"What the hell did you just say?" The teenager barked.

"I'm sorry to burst your 'Regina is perfect' bubble," Emma sarcastically responded to her, "but it's true."

"Can we not do this in front of Henry?" Regina requested—refusing to partake in the argument any further as she looked at the bewildered face her son was wearing.

"I know it's true," Charlotte continued, "and are we going to talk about _why_?"

"Why? What do you mean, kid?"

"How could you—how could you even bring_ him_ up?"

"Bring who up?"

"_Please_," Snow begged, as she began to visibly shake, "everyone _just stop_."

"Wait a second," Charlotte processed—as she turned to face her grandmother. "She doesn't know—_does she_? She doesn't know _any_ of it?"

"What?" Emma demanded. "What don't I know?"

"How could she not know? How could you not tell her?!"

"I…I d-didn't," Snow White stuttered, "things have been…."

"And neither does Henry," Charlotte concluded. "This is ten times more screwed up that I even thought it was."

"Can someone please explain what she's talking about?" Emma asked, as she looked directly at Regina. Regina felt the blonde's eyes on her, but refused to acknowledge her. She was too busy wondering if it was possible—that Charlotte could be referring to what she suspected she might be.

"No, shut up," Charlotte cut Emma off. "I cannot believe how useless you are right now."

"Don't tell my mom to shut up," Henry stood up to her.

"Newsflash Henry: _Regina_-is—your—mom—too."

"She lied to me."

"So did _Emma_."

"It's not the same thing."

"She almost dies twice, you know; she almost dies trying to save all of you, okay?"

"That's not possible," Henry decided. "She's the villain—villains don't die trying to save anyone but themselves."

"I can't believe you are the big brother I spent my whole life looking up to," the girl yelled. "You're treating the woman who raised you like she doesn't mean anything to you. Which is ironic—since you come home to her every single weekend like a pathetic mama's boy who still can't do his own laundry."

"Charlotte," David warned, "that's enough yelling at a child."

"You two are the worst," she spat back at her grandparents. "You seriously couldn't even take five minutes to explain to your daughter what went on in the enchanted forest? You're not innocent in this situation and the look on Nana's face makes it obvious that she knows it."

"And you," Charlotte directed her attention back to her blonde mother, "maybe if you weren't so busy being angry at the world all of the time, you would see that you two have way more in common than you want to admit. Or was the way you were flirting with her all day not supposed to be obvious?"

"Kid, look, I wasn't…"

"No, stop talking; I _know _you. You don't even want to deal with her—because it seems too complicated and you think she's just another person you're supposed to be responsible for saving. But, it's not like that. She's your equal—she's the only one that doesn't put you on a savior pedestal. She's the only one who can really understand you. Oh, and you make magic when you touch."

Regina observed the vein popping out of Charlotte's head and saw way too much of herself in the young girl's eyes. In all honesty, she felt like she was having an out-of-body-experience as she watched the mirror image of herself scream things she had only dreamed of saying.

"I'm sorry," Charlotte lowered her voice and looked at Regina. "But I really need to get out of here."

And before Regina could respond, Charlotte disappeared in a vision of purple.

"Well," Charming spoke first, "I guess the queen's temper gets passed on through the gene pool, huh?"

"I'm going after her," Regina announced and ignored the insult. "And I am clearly not needed here."

"I'm coming with you," Emma insisted.

"No, you're not. Your father is right—that is certainly _my_ temper, so let _me_ deal with it. You just stay here and take care of Amelia and Henry."

Regina waved her hand—and followed her daughter by vanishing into smoke.

"What is it?" A shell-shocked Emma looked to her parents. "What the hell is it that you two didn't tell me?"


	6. Of Sinking and Floating

**Update time. First of all: trigger warning for discussions of Regina and Leopold's marriage. This chapter is kind of serious, which I felt was necessary in order for the story to realistically progress. But next chapter will get back to the fun side, I promise. As usual, any mistakes are mine- because as usual, it's the middle of the night :) **

**Thank you to everyone who is reading. I want you to know that I genuinely grin while reading your reviews. They keep me sane at work. I try to reply as I get them but if I missed you: I'm sorry and I absolutely love you!**

* * *

_After waking up in bed alone, Emma panics. She jumps up and runs down the stairs, almost tripping on her own two feet in the process. When she makes it to the kitchen, she exhales in relief—because Regina is safe. But the relief lasts just for a moment and is quickly replaced by both anger and overwhelming anxiety. She knows this woman too well—which means she knows that Regina Mills will run herself into the ground if that's what it takes. _

_Her wife is still sitting at the table—in the same spot she's been in all day. She is surrounded by spell books and all sorts of magical liquids; her head is down, resting on her arms, and Emma is positive she is asleep. _

"_Wake up," she says softly, as she strokes strands of brunette hair. "And come to bed." _

"_Mmmm;noooo," is the entirely incoherent response—but Emma understands it's a refusal. _

"_You promised me you would sleep tonight." _

"_I shouldn't have drifted off," Regina lifts her head. "Is it morning?" _

"_No, it's the middle of the night. You need a break." _

"_I just took a nap," the queen wipes away the drool on her arm with a nearby napkin, "apparently."_

"_You also have to eat," Emma pushes the subject. "You look like you've lost ten pounds."_

"_I'm not hungry." _

"_Maybe you don't feel hungry—but your body needs fuel."_

"_Don't talk to me like I'm a child. Especially when you look like shit yourself." _

"_I know do," Emma confesses. She is actively avoiding mirrors—because she knows what she will find. "But you don't need to worry about me—because I've taken the opposite approach—I've been eating everything in sight. I think I have the ten pounds you lost."_

"_Don't be ridiculous; you are a twig." _

"_Just try to eat—something, anything at all."_

"_I did—and the contents ended up in the toilet five minutes later." _

"_Baby," Emma gently coos. It's not a term she uses often but, right now, it's all she can say. Because the love of her life cannot even swallow her food without gagging. "Come here."_

_She engulfs her wife in her arms and kisses her forehead. _

"_These spells are too complicated for me," Regina admits, obviously ashamed. "He's the dark one—and for my entire life, he's beaten me." _

"_He might be the dark one, but you're a genius and a pissed off mom." _

"_We have one chance—that's it—one." _

"_Good," the blonde nods. "You and I do better under pressure."_

"_Which is why I can't stop working." _

"_Okay," she gives in—because she knows a losing battle when she sees one. "Can I at least stay with you?"_

"_Not if you're going to just stare at me looking worried." _

"_I won't," she swears. "Which one of the spells are you working on now?" _

_One day closer, she tells herself as she listens to Regina's complicated explanation of the two spells they will need in order for their plan to work._

_One day—one hour—one minute—one second closer to holding her girls again._

* * *

Regina transported herself back to her bedroom. She wasn't all that surprised to find Charlotte, reduced to tears, huddled on her bed. The teenager had, after all, left the Charming apartment in quite a dramatic fashion, inarguably wearing her emotions on her sleeve.

The clothes Charlotte had changed into, however, were slightly more bewildering. Regina almost didn't recognize them: an old pair of gray sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt she forgot she even owned. It stopped her heart—momentarily—as she digested that not only did the girl know exactly where in the closet to find them, but that she sought them out for comfort.

"I want to go back now," Charlotte whispered, as she glanced up to meet her mother's anxious eyes.

"I know you do," Regina approached cautiously and stood before her. "I'm sorry that you can't."

"And I want my mom."

"I could call her," she offered, putting aside her personal objections; admitting to the savior that she needed help was certainly not something she would enjoy. "Emma wanted to come back here but I thought you might need some space…"

"No!" the girl screamed in reply. "I don't want_ her_—I want _my_ mom."

"Okay," Regina accepted, admittedly relieved. She warily sat down on the bed as she searched her mind for some sort of comforting advice.

"I'm sorry," Charlotte sniffled, "that I left without you."

"You don't have to apologize for that."

"Yes, I do; they were attacking you like vultures, all of them."

"I can handle it."

"But they're not usually like that—and I don't usually yell. Seriously, I _never _yell. But mom was just sitting there being…."

"Charlotte," Regina momentarily hesitated before deciding to place her hand on the girl's shoulder, "what exactly is it that you know?"

"I know _everything_—we don't keep secrets in this family. Well, apparently we do now—or here—however you want to say it."

"If that's true," she trembled, "then you know a lot of horrible things for a girl your age."

"I guess."

"You're just a little kid."

"I'm not that young."

"You _are_ though."

"I'm only two years younger than you were when you were forced to get married against your will—two years younger than you were when he…"

The unfinished statement—combined with the horrified look on Charlotte's face—was all the confirmation she needed. Because she saw it all: the sorrow and the anger. It was clear that Charlotte knew all there was to know about King Leopold.

"You're just a little girl," the baffled queen reiterated. "Why would I tell you about that?"

"I ask a lot of questions."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew about Cora and Henry—I heard Nana talk about Eva, too—but no one ever really talked about him. So, one day, I asked mom. We were in the car and I thought she was going to drive off the road. She told me we'd talk about it later—and we did—the three of us."

"I see," Regina listened intently, as she tried to wrap her mind around the mental picture of Emma's apparent involvement.

"She sat next to you and held your hand when you told me. She finished sentences for you when you got too upset—when you didn't know what to say."

"And that's why you got so frustrated with her tonight?"

"Yes," Charlotte confirmed. "I mean, she was the one who told me about the enchanted forest and how things were so different and how it's impossible for anyone who hasn't been there to understand—that I'm lucky I live in this world and not that one. She's the one who always says we should just be grateful you survived."

"But it's not… I don't know, too much for you? It's not too upsetting?"

"To know what you went through? No—it makes me want to be strong like you."

"But I'm not…"

"_Please_," Charlotte interrupted her, "don't even finish that sentence."

"What you saw tonight—that's how it's _always_ been with them. Typically it's even worse, to be honest. That dinner was rather civil in the grand scheme of things. I mean do you know…do you know about…"

"What?"

"Do you know that I was literally at war with them?"

"I've always known—I grew up knowing all of it. I guess I've never had to think too hard about it—you guys hating each other—it was all just a story to me—a story that didn't matter much because I already knew it had a _happy ending_. It's different seeing you guys fight up close."

That damn phrase, Regina mused. A happy ending. It had once meant the world to her—and then, she had given up on it. She physically couldn't process the notion that it was now sitting right in front of her, in her sweatpants, staring her in the face.

"And you're really happy—in the future?"

"Yes—and so are you," Charlotte smiled. "Besides, I really can't complain about our family background. I mean, I come from a long line of strong women and royalty—which is kind of awesome. Plus, you know, there's the whole magic thing—and you always tell me that it was meant to be like this—and that I'm the proof—because the magic of true love doesn't lie."

"The magic of true love _can't_ lie," she repeated because she knew the power behind the words. There was one force in the world that couldn't be faked—couldn't be manipulated—and that was true love. "But Henry's in the middle of this mess because of who I am and…. are you sure I'm not a burden to you?"

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You're not a burden to anyone. I love you—and you don't have to say anything because I get that you don't even know me…"

"No, Charlotte—I love you very much."

"Already?"

"Yes, dear, already."

"Cool," the kid stated. "That will make this 'vacation' a little bit easier for me, I guess."

Vacation, Regina remembered—by definition, a non-permanent situation. Eventually, everyone went home—and life returned to normal.

She cuddled Charlotte close to her—and tried not to think about how, sometime soon, she'd have to let her go.

* * *

Emma burst through the doors of 108 Mifflin Street with a sleeping Amelia in her arms.

At the end of a long and dumbfounding conversation with her parents, she had demanded the key to the mayor's house from Henry and walked all the way there. It was a risk, she knew, to tread through the streets of Storybrooke while holding Amelia—but she hadn't quite figured out the whole magical transportation system yet. Besides, she reasoned, it was late—and she was confident in her own abilities to lie her way out of it, if anyone happened to see her.

As she tucked Amelia into bed on the second floor, Emma thought about her own parents. It wasn't that she was angry at them, exactly.

After all, they had been cursed—and then un-cursed—separated by a portal—and almost murdered by Cora. Frankly, there hadn't really been a whole lot of down-time in between the chaos.

Except that—if she really thought about it, Emma had to admit, when Cora showed up—when the past started melting into the present—they _definitely _should've told her. They should've told her that all of this was about more than plain and simple revenge.

It was obvious to her that Mary-Margaret was actively trying to forget—which she also understood. But that didn't make it fair to Regina. Apparently, not much had ever been fair to Regina.

In any case, Emma struggled with the fact that Charlotte had been right—_again_; she didn't know what the hell that meant for her own future. For now, she wanted—needed- to talk to the kid—and to Regina.

She found herself standing outside of the mayor's bedroom—she knocked before she had too much time to think about whether or not it was a horrible idea to show her face to the two of them after the dinner debacle.

"Hello?" She called out. "Can one of you please let me in?"

When the bedroom door started to open, she didn't know who to expect—Charlotte or Regina. And frankly, she didn't know who she even wanted it to be. Emma was clueless about how to apologize to a teenage girl—and she was equally as intimidated by the thought of dealing with a distraught Regina.

"Charlotte is asleep," the older woman coldly relayed to her. "You can talk to her tomorrow."

"I didn't know," were the first words that poured out of her mouth.

"I am fully aware of that," was the only reply, as the door began to close again. "Now, if that will be all..."

"No," Emma loudly protested, as she stuck out her foot to prevent the door from moving, "Regina!"

"Lower your voice."

"Not until you listen to me."

"I'm not sure you're even saying anything? You're just yelling."

"I want to talk to you."

"Fine," Regina begrudgingly gave in. "But we should _quietly_ go downstairs, then."

Emma nodded in response as the queen exited her bedroom and led her down the staircase. When they reached the living room—a room Emma had hardly spent any time in until this week—the brunette motioned towards the couch.

"Sit down—and where is Amelia?"

"Upstairs, asleep in her room; I brought her back with me."

"And Henry is still at the apartment, yes?"

"He is."

"Then, go on: say whatever it is you came here to say."

"Regina," she began as though she was starting some sort of eloquent speech—but eloquence, unfortunately, was not her forte. "I didn't know."

"I believe we have covered that already."

"No, but like…I had no idea."

She was embarrassed, really, by how ridiculously bad it was coming out. She could only hope that it was the thought that counted—that this attempt was better than nothing at all.

"And now you do? Now you have an idea?"

"I—I think."

"So, _what?_ Everything your father pointed out tonight is still true. Isn't that right?"

"Yes," she admitted, slightly uncomfortable with the queen's refusal to sit down.

"So then why does it even matter? What does it change?"

"Everything."

"It changes nothing," the brunette assured her. "And, perhaps, I didn't _want _you to know."

"Why not?"

"Because of the way you're looking at me right now," the explanation was simple—and Emma understood. She hated it, too—when people looked at her as a victim. "I don't want sympathy from you."

"But I still should've known—that there was more to the story—to your story. Because…I mean, people don't just…become Evil Queens, or whatever. And I know that—I knew it—but I mean….fairytales are suddenly real, and stuff—you know?"

It hardly made sense; the sloppy words she had managed to string together were just barely coherent. But what made even less sense was the semblance of a smile she noticed on Regina's face.

"What I know, Emma Swan, is that you are sinking beneath the weight of things you don't know—of things you are still trying to understand—about where you're from and who you are."

And in that one sentence, Emma found a painfully accurate summary—the best explanation she had ever heard—of everything she had been feeling since the very day the curse broke. And it was a little strange that her supposed nemesis seemed to understand things that her family couldn't.

"That's true," she admitted. "But we're not talking about me right now. So don't… don't change the subject."

"I'm not changing the subject. My point is that you're not responsible for finding out everyone's side of the story. And the only reason you feel guilty about not knowing mine is because a young girl with 'your nose' screamed at you for it."

"But you're not 'everyone.' You're Henry's mother."

"Oh, now I'm his mother again?" She laughed deeply and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe we could develop some sort of system—perhaps a bell you could ring-to let me know when I'm his mom and when I'm not."

"Stop," Emma grimaced at the sarcasm—at the fight bubbling beneath the surface. She didn't want it—she had no fight left in her tonight. "I need you to tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"It was worse than Mary-Margaret even knows, wasn't it?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Because, I figure, there is only so much a little girl can understand about her own father—even after she grows up."

"You probably figure correctly."

"So when Mary-Margaret says…when she says that you didn't want to marry him….when she says that you were only six years older than she was….I mean, that's not even close to being old enough to be her step-mother….what she really _means_ is that he did whatever the hell he wanted with an eighteen year old bride. Am I right?"

"Yes—you're right."

The confirmation of her worst suspicions was nauseating. Emma wondered if Regina had any intention on continuing the conversation—she wondered if she planned on storming out of the room or bursting out in tears. But, Regina did neither—she stood perfectly still—perfectly held together. And Emma wanted to know more—so she had to try to keep it going.

"It was Cora? Who—she made you?"

"My mother ripped out her own heart to obtain power; it was all she ever wanted. She planned for me to become Queen before I was even born—she manipulated every possible scenario so that it happened. Daniel was the only obstacle that stood in the way—she took care of that, too. And, yes, she accepted the King's proposal on my behalf."

"But," Emma protested, "you can't just play people like chess pieces."

"Ah, but you _can_ in Fairy Tale Land."

"Could you leave him?"

"Technically speaking, I was physically able to. But, realistically, there was no point. If I ran away, I would've humiliated him—and he would've found me."

"You're not a piece of property."

"Not anymore I'm not," the words were laced with a determination that Emma recognized. _You have no idea what I'm capable of,_ crawled back into her mind.

"So that's why…why you learned magic? To gain an upper-hand?"

"Rumpelstiltskin came to me—to teach me just like he taught my mother. I thought I could bring Daniel back to life. I thought magic was my way out. But when I realized it wasn't going to work….well, everything went _dark_."

"I get it."

"I highly doubt that."

"I just mean that…when I was in foster care—in a few bad homes- I used to dream about getting out, too—and those dreams often involved some relatively violent escape plans."

"The difference is that you only _dreamed_ about it."

"Maybe," Emma pondered, "that makes you the brave one."

"Let's not get carried now, dear."

"It would've broken anyone."

"No, I was weak; I allowed them to break me."

Regina finally sat down on the couch across from Emma—she looked pale—and maybe, the blonde thought, a little sick herself.

"Are you okay?"

"I've never talked about this out loud," it was a statement that didn't directly answer the question—but was as good as a 'no' all the same.

"Never?"

"Rumple didn't really have a sympathetic shoulder to lean on in between whispering in my ear all of the reasons I was a total failure—while he pushed me to enact the curse. And, well, now we're here."

"Now we're here," Emma echoed. And she knew, of course, that by 'here' Regina meant Storybrooke. Regina meant that she still didn't have anyone to talk to. But Emma interpreted it a slightly different way—_now we're here—_together, talking, with two sleeping children upstairs.

"I'm still the reason you grew up in that system you dreamed of escaping, you know."

"You didn't put me in the wardrobe."

"I'm the reason the wardrobe was built."

"Honestly, based on this conversation, I'm starting to be a little less upset about not growing up in your world."

"Oh, _you_ would've been just fine—with your golden locks and the Charming name. You would've been beloved, I'm quite sure."

"And then sold off to some king?"

"No, the good guys are allowed to find their _true loves_."

"Good guys, right," Emma sneered at the term, which now left a bad taste in her mouth. "When it's just the two of us, I always forget you're 'the Evil Queen' – because you're not—here, anyway. And then I get around other people and I get confused. That's what happened—with the whole Archie thing."

"They pull out the rap-sheet," Regina understood, "and it speaks for itself."

"But if I had all the people I've wronged in my life following me around reminding the world of what I did—how the hell would I have ever changed?"

"You wouldn't have."

"Exactly. So, I'm sorry—for all of it—but especially for tonight. I'm just….well, like you said, I'm sinking."

"I accept your apology," Regina replied. Emma thought it sounded a little robotic, yet still completely genuine. She wondered just how long it had been since anyone had apologized to this woman.

The savior got up and walked across to the other side of the room – it was a high risk move, but one she felt was necessary; she sat down next to the brunette—their shoulders touching. "What Charlotte said, about us being equals, I want that. Even if—even if none of this stuff with her and Amelia is true—we still have to be partners—raising Henry, you know?"

"I wanted that, too. Why do you think I came to that stupid dinner party in the first place? To welcome your mother home? That was me...making an effort."

"I want to take a fourth step."

"A fourth step?"

"You said we take three steps forward and two steps back—I want to just keep walking this time. Possibly even without killing each other. Do you think that's at all possible?"

"I do."

"Hey now," she teased, "those are dangerous words to throw around with us, apparently."

"Emma, your parents are the only other people who know anything about what I've told you tonight."

"This stays between us; I would _never_ tell anyone."

"That's not what I meant—I meant that I don't understand how Charlotte could know this unless…"

"Unless she's telling the truth about everything," Emma completed the thought.

"She looked like you earlier. I know she mostly looks like me—but every so often, I can see you in her, too. When I got back here tonight she was crying—and she looked like you."

"When have you even seen me cry?"

"When we almost lost Henry—that image is burned into my mind—everything about that day is."

"You believe her, don't you?"

Regina merely nodded in reply—and it was the smallest nod Emma had ever seen. She was sure that she would've missed it if she had so much as blinked. The blonde wanted to continue—but she sensed they were no longer alone—and when she looked up, she saw Charlotte walking down the stairs.

"What are you even doing here?" The teenager directed the question at her, oblivious to the serious conversation she was interrupting.

"Charlotte," she jumped up from the couch. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you still mad at me?"

"I don't know," the girl considered. "Did you come here to talk or to apologize?"

"Actually, I came to do both," Emma explained. "You were right; there was a lot I didn't know that I probably should have by now. And I shouldn't have spoken to Regina like that at dinner. I'm sorry."

"Of course I was right—because I know everything about you two that you haven't figured out yet."

"Well, um," she fumbled, "I think Regina and I are okay now."

"We're okay," Regina confirmed.

"Then I guess I'm not still mad at you. I just hope this 'truce,' or whatever, actually lasts."

"It will, kid—I promise."

"Just as long as you don't ask any dogs for eye witness accounts, mom."

"Don't look at me," Regina quickly stated, "I did _not _tell her that."

"You know what?" Emma sighed and fell back onto the couch. "I'm just going to let you have that one."

"Good choice," Charlotte grinned, before sitting down as well.

"For the record, I think it's pretty sweet that you can stand up for what you believe in so easily."

"Yeah, well, I learned that from you: don't let the world tell you who you are—you tell the world."

"I guess I'm not a total screw up then?"

"No—you're not."

"Did we wake you up?" Regina interjected. "I tried to tell her to be quiet."

"No you didn't—I'm just really hungry."

"I bet," Emma replied, "all that yelling must've worked up an appetite."

"Would you like me to make you something, dear?"

"Do you have any ice cream?"

"I don't think so."

"Well," Charlotte waved her arm—making a large container of chocolate ice cream pop up on the table in front of them, "now you do."

"Um," Emma stared at the dessert, "when you first got here you said you're only allowed to use magic in _emergencies_."

"What are you going to do? Ground me? I'm already on house arrest. Stop me from seeing my friends? Oh wait, they haven't even been born yet."

"I don't think we can argue with that logic, Emma."

"Well then, will you at least _share _the magic? Getting screamed at by a teenager also works up an appetite, you know."

"Sure," Charlotte snapped her fingers and three spoons appeared. "We can share."

"So," Emma continued as she dug her spoon into the chocolate, "does Regina _really_ still do Henry's laundry on weekends?"

"Of all the things I yelled," the girl rolled her eyes, "that's _seriously_ what you take away?"

"I'm just saying—in between sword fighting lessons and apparently moving to Boston, he couldn't learn how to wash his own socks?"

* * *

An hour later, Emma sat silently on the couch in between Charlotte and Regina. She was happy to have, at least for the moment, resolved her issues with both of them. Regina had fallen asleep, and her head had somehow landed on the savior's shoulder. Emma glanced over at Charlotte—and noticed she looked like she was about to pass out as well.

"Kid," she whispered, "should we go upstairs?"

"No," Charlotte groggily refused, "I'm comfortable."

Emma thought about how Henry had shown up at her doorstep—much like Charlotte and Amelia had waltzed into the Sheriff's Station. And just like Henry, Charlotte was overly-confident in the outlandish story she was insisting to be true.

"But…"

"If you even move, mommy will wake up—she's a light sleeper."

"Fine—but if I get in trouble for this in the morning…."

"Blame me," she nodded, "you got it."

It seemed a little bit peculiar that she was an accidental mother for the second time in a year. And that Regina was, once again, the other piece of the puzzle—the person she shared it all with.

"And mom," Charlotte added, "thank you."

"For what?"

"Coming home."

Home—apparently did not just mean Storybrooke. It meant _Mifflin Street, 108, Regina Mills._ She kept ending up here—almost like she was meant to. If Emma believed in destiny- if she believed in fate- she realized she would probably have something to worry about. But instead she closed her eyes, content with the simple accomplishment of finally finding someone in this town she could relate to. Maybe now she could stop sinking. Maybe now she could attempt to float.


	7. Safe

**Ask me how this chapter got so long- because I literally have no idea. Thus, I will merely say thank you readers :) Enjoy the chapter and know something big is lurking in the upcoming updates ;) ;) **

* * *

_Rays of sunshine peek in through the kitchen window, signifying that one more night has come and gone. For Regina, the only thing the new day represents is another twenty-four hours without progress. Two spells are needed to take down the dark one. And she still has zero._

_Emma, her relentless trooper, succumbed to sleep a few hours earlier. It had helped, no doubt, to have her wife with her. But apparently it wasn't enough to produce results. When the blonde put her head down on the table—'just for a minute'-she had fallen asleep almost instantly. Regina wasn't angry—in fact, she lovingly carried her to the couch and threw a blanket over her before going back to work. _

_But now, finally, Regina feels the physical strain she has put on her own body. She's sort of hungry —though the thought of food is still entirely unappealing-her eyes are burning out of her head—and she has to pee. The room, too, shows evidence of her all-nighter: there are burn marks on the kitchen table from spilt liquids and she can smell the remnants of magic dust in the air. _

_It's not the first time in her life she is simultaneously fueled by anger and love. But maternal love, she understands, is the fiercest emotional of all._

_She holds the vile of liquid she glared at all night in her hand—a physical embodiment of the feeling that she is not good enough to save her children. She has to channel this anger somehow, or she fears she will burn the house to the ground. Before she realizes what she is doing, she crushes the vile in her fist using all of her strength. She feels shards of glass cut into her skin._

_She is in a completely dangerous place in her mind. She is trying to recall those breathing mechanisms she learned from Archie all those years ago. But she hasn't needed them in so long that she seems to have forgotten them altogether. She is too far gone to hear the sound of her front door opening or, subsequently, the footsteps in the hallway. _

"_Are you okay?" She hears a voice ask from behind her. _

_Regina slowly turns her head around to find Snow and David standing in the kitchen. She observes a bag of bagels in the woman's hands and the vision infuriates her. Typical naive Snow, Regina tells herself. Did she really think anyone would feel like eating bagels this morning? _

"_I'm not okay," she spits out in reply, "because nothing I try is working." _

"_It will work," David tells her, as Snow puts breakfast down on the counter. _

"_What am I doing wrong?!" Regina asks as she stands up. "Why won't it just work?" _

_It is then that the Charmings notice it—the blood dripping from Regina's right palm. They are startled—and it takes them back to the time when they were afraid of the queen; they cannot help but to think of the many hearts that have been crushed in that very hand. _

_Ultimately, they are more worried than they are frightened. They both look around the room—searching for their daughter. They realize Regina is alone—and that it is up to them to calm her down._

_David runs to her first—he stands behind her shaking body and puts his arms securely around her. He is the only thing preventing her from falling to the ground. Snow walks to her at a slower pace—but when she gets to her—she firmly puts her hands on Regina's shoulders. _

"_Regina," the woman soothes, "it's alright."_

"_Let me go," she tries to squirm out of David's arms. "Let go of me this instant." _

"_We've got you," is the only response she gets. _

"_I will kill you both if you do not release me immediately." _

"_No you won't," the prince knows it's an entirely empty threat. _

"_Put me down. Why are you doing this?"_

"_Because," Snow reasons, "we love you."_

_The words cause Regina to stop moving; every muscle in her body freezes in place. _

_She's been married to Emma for more than a decade—and, arguably, a part of this twisted family for even longer. She hugs Snow and David hello on Christmas, she carves Turkey with them on Thanksgiving—she has brunch with them every Sunday—she is not remotely bothered that her girls often make unscheduled trips to see their grandparents after school. _

_Regina tolerates them, forgives them, and accepts the reality of their presence in her life. And, though she has admitted it very rarely, she occasionally even enjoys spending time with them. _

_Regina knows that Snow White and Prince Charming accept that their daughter loves the Evil Queen. But she has never, once, stopped to entertain the possibility that they might have learned to love her, too. _

"_Please," Snow begs, "you're hurt." _

"_I'm sorry," she relaxes into David's embrace, feeling embarrassed. "I'm so sorry." _

"_Don't be," he tells her. "It's okay." _

"_David," Snow instructs, "go get the first-aid kit from the upstairs bathroom." _

_He releases his daughter-in-law from his grasp and follows his wife's order. _

_Snow doesn't speak another word as she gently walks Regina over to the sink. She turns the faucet on and guides the bleeding hand under running water. _

"_I don't even know if they're safe," Regina trembles. _

"_Of course they are," Snow comforts her. "A mother can always feel it—in her gut—if her children are safe. The reason you want this to work so quickly is because you know they're okay—and you want to get to them as fast as possible." _

"_They're okay," Regina repeats out loud, mostly to try to convince herself that the words are true. _

"_I have to pull this glass out." _

"_Emma is going to be mad at me," she says—sounding like a child herself. _

"_We don't have to tell her," Snow offers—an attempt at solidarity. "We can just tell her, I don't know, that it was an accident—a vile exploded while you were experimenting." _

"_I know her self-proclaimed 'superpower' doesn't always work on everyone—but it always works on me." _

"_This is going to hurt." _

_Regina nods, granting permission for Snow to continue. Truthfully, as the glass is extracted from her skin, she barely even feels it. It's nothing compared to the pain of her children not being here._

"_Charlotte turns sixteen this weekend," she says, as she watches her blood blend with the cold water. "My baby's sweet sixteen."_

* * *

When Emma opened her eyes, she was grateful to find she was the first one awake. It meant that Regina would never have to know that she spent the entire night on the savior's shoulder. Emma was relatively certain that, despite the progress they had made, she wouldn't be too fond to find out about the unplanned sleeping arrangement.

Emma also thought it was in her best interest to clean up the melted chocolate ice-cream that was stuck to the table in front of them. She did not want to start the morning off listening to a rant about her continuous inability to eat without making a mess.

She carefully stood up—happy that Charlotte snuggled closer to Regina in her absence. She began to head towards the kitchen, to attempt to search for paper towel. But, before she could, she heard the distinct sound of cries originating from the second floor of the house.

"Amelia," she said out loud before darting towards the staircase.

When she reached the bedroom she found the child sitting on her bed in tears. "What's up?" She frantically asked, before realizing the casual lingo was probably not the best way to address a five-year-old.

She received confirmation that it was the wrong thing to say when all Amelia did was cry harder in response. Emma approached her and picked her up in her arms—hugging her close. It seemed like her best bet, and she assumed she couldn't possibly make the situation much worse.

Seconds later, a sleepy-eyed Regina appeared in the room. Emma wondered how it was even possible that she woke up and got up the stairs that quickly. But the blonde reminded herself that Regina was the one with experience. In fact, she probably remembered waking up to Henry's cries—she probably knew exactly how to handle tantrums.

"What happened? Why are you crying? What's wrong?" Regina asked—and Emma silently scolded herself—because she couldn't come up with a single appropriate question to ask the child and Regina had instantaneously come up with three of them.

"Everything," Amelia whined.

Regina walked up to them and Emma was surprised that she didn't rip the girl from her awkward embrace. Instead, she allowed Emma to continue to hold Amelia while she ran loving and gentle circles on the child's back. "Like, what, sweetheart?"

"I want to go to school."

"You really miss it that much, kid?"

"They're learning without me," she complained. "We were supposed do a project this week with finger-paint—that's my favorite. And I'm not going to know any of the songs in music."

"Everything is okay," Regina promised—without actually addressing any of the stated concerns.

"You'll catch up because you're smart," Emma added. "That's why I call you Matilda, right?"

Amelia crinkled her nose at her nickname—but seemed unsatisfied by their assurances. "Will you break up?"

"What do you mean?" The mayor curiously asked.

"Are you going to not be married anymore?"

"Why would you think that, love?"

Emma watched the exchange—still adjusting to sweet tone from the notoriously up-tight woman.

"Because everyone is weird."

"How are we being weird?"

"Mom has been in time-out all week."

"Your mom is just a trouble maker—that's nothing new."

"She's never in _this_ much trouble."

"We're not going to break up," Emma joined in with a firm answer, merely because it seemed like the right thing to say.

"We're sorry, Amelia," Regina continued, following her lead, "your mom and I have had a very stressful week and we didn't mean to upset you or make you think anything was wrong between us."

"Is this because of Gold?"

"Mr. Gold?" Emma thought she must have heard incorrectly.

"You said I had to stay away from him," Amelia told them. "Is that why I can't go to school and why you're sad?"

"Yes," Regina answered. "You definitely need to stay away from him."

"Is he going to hurt me?"

"No, dear, we'd never let him."

"It's safe in here?"

"You're always safe with us," Emma promised as her heart-ached. Because she knew what it was like to be a scared kid wondering if she was safe. And despite the fact that she was still skeptical about all of this, Emma wasn't going to let this adorable girl feel like she had.

"What if he tries to come to the house?"

"Your mom is the Sheriff and the savior…do you think she will let anything bad happen to us?"

Amelia shook her head—"no."

Emma wondered if this was part of the act—or if it was a genuine statement. She thought back to the night of the fire, to the angry mob, to the damn wraith. She had, time and time again, protected Regina. She pondered if, perhaps, there was a chance Henry's adoptive mother really did feel safe when she was around. She even felt a hint of pride at the notion that it could be true.

"Right," Regina agreed. "So, you don't have anything to worry about, okay?"

"Okay," Amelia accepted—her tears finally subsiding.

"Do you forgive us for being no fun these last few days?"

"Yes, mommy, I do."

"Thank you—we appreciate that."

Emma exhaled—relieved the crisis was over—she didn't want to think about how the scene would've unfolded if Regina hadn't woken up just in time. Amelia, still in her arms, pointed their attention towards the window— "It snowed."

"Look at that," Regina walked over to look out at the view, "you're right—it certainly did."

"Can we play in it?"

"Yeah," Emma said, because it was one question she knew she could handle. "We can totally play in it."

* * *

After breakfast, Charlotte volunteered to get her sister dressed to go outside—leaving Regina and Emma alone for the first time that morning.

"For Amelia's sake," Emma thought out loud, "I think we're going to need to become better actresses."

"Yes, we are—I'm just not sure it's going to be enough."

"Why not?"

"Amelia is clearly a smart little girl and I don't know if we can ever truly understand how to act like the people we are going to be decade from now."

"I guess you're right," the blonde frowned.

"It doesn't mean we can't try. And I'm sure Charlotte would be more than willing to help us gain some insight."

As if on cue, the teenager waltzed back into the kitchen. "Amelia will be right down—she's having a very serious internal debate about which pair of ear-muffs match her boots."

"Charlotte," Emma addressed her seriously, "can we ask you something?"

"Sure."

"If this was a snow day—like, in the future, what would Regina and I normally do?"

"Where is this coming from?" Charlotte eyed them both suspiciously.

"Amelia asked us if we were getting divorced because she thinks we're not acting like ourselves," Regina explained. "We just don't want her to be so upset—and frankly, we don't want her to keep asking questions we can't answer."

"Oh, well, let me think," she considered. "You probably would tell us to go make snow angels and then you would just make out in the corner."

"Wait," Emma gulped in reply, "seriously?"

"No," Regina observed the smirk on the teenager's face and disapproving shook her head, "she's messing with you."

"That was not cool," the sheriff rolled her eyes. "And this isn't the parent trap."

"No—it's not—because I don't need to set any traps since I already know you're meant for each other."

"Can we maybe _not _with the dramatics today? We're trying to help your sister, kid."

"So you want a serious answer?"

"Yes," Regina nodded. "Please."

"On a snow day—well, we would probably build a snowman—and we would use cookies and candy for the face—and mom would eat half of it in the process —and you would pretend to disapprove but end up eating just as much of it—and then we would go inside and drink hot chocolate."

"I think we can handle that," Emma listened intently, determined to prevent another outburst from the youngest sibling.

"But you'd definitely be holding hands—or at least keeping each other warm."

"Alright, fine," Emma accepted, avoiding looking at Regina for fear of her reaction. "Go get your jacket, then—we're going to make a snowman."

* * *

It had unfolded eerily close to how Charlotte had described it. But Regina was becoming accustomed to that. They stayed outside for nearly two hours—and just like the day they had played hide-and-seek, Regina found herself enjoying it all too much. In compliance with Charlotte's suggestion, she allowed Emma to hold her hand through leather gloves for the better part of their activities. The layer of fabric between their fingers did nothing to make the gesture feel less intimate to either one of them.

They built an impressive snowman—and Emma even attempted to build a fort made of snow. By the end of their snowball fight, which the adults let the children win, Amelia seemed to completely be herself again. The young girl even happily insisted that both of her moms try catching snowflakes on their tongues. When a giant blob of liquid landed on Regina's cheek, Emma laughed heartily and wiped it away. The brunette did not miss the overly- amused look on Charlotte's face—a look that caused Emma to pull away quickly, acting as though nothing of significance had happened at all.

And whether or not it was significant, Regina still wasn't sure. The talk they had last night certainly was and it felt as though things were taking a drastic turn between them. But she reminded herself that their new-found connection was partially due to the unusual circumstances they were in. Just like Charlotte and Amelia's companionship, Regina was afraid to get too used to having Emma around. Even if she couldn't quite get the look of understanding she found in Emma's eyes out of her head.

When they all concluded they were too cold to stay outside any longer, Emma made hot chocolate. The four of them sat around the table talking aimlessly until they were interrupted by a knock at the front door.

"Are we expecting someone?" Emma asked.

"All three of you," Regina instinctively replied, "take your drinks and go upstairs."

Regina looked at Emma—hoping she would silently understand her intent. She was relieved to find that the savior seemed to gauge her concern immediately. Because she _wasn't _expecting anyone—and had no idea who it could be; they would not take the risk that it was someone who wasn't supposed to know about the girls' arrival in Storybrooke.

The mayor walked to her front hallway, praying to find her son on the other side of the door.

"Neal," Regina processed, when she opened the door and took in the unexpected sight of Henry's biological father. "How can I help you?"

"I want to talk to Emma," he demanded.

"And I'm sure you are perfectly capable of doing so on your own time."

"Henry told me," he continued, "he told me everything."

"Everything about what?" She innocently played along, as though she had no clue what he could possibly be referring to.

"About me, I'm assuming," Charlotte turned the corner, revealing herself. "Hey, Neal."

Regina's heart stopped-"I told you to stay upstairs."

"This is Henry's sister? Emma's kid? Charlotte, right?"

"Yup," the girl answered. "That's me."

"Go back inside, Charlotte."

"Why? It's just Neal? He's harmless."

"I am not in the mood for you to question me on this," she snapped. She watched the look on her daughter's face change—it was the first time she had yelled at her. The teenager obeyed and sulked back into the living room.

"I need to talk to Emma," the man reiterated when they were alone again.

"Congratulations. Have you ever heard of a telephone?"

"She's not answering my calls."

"Well, that's truly not my problem. My front porch is not couples counseling."

"I know she's here. She hasn't left this house in days—she hasn't been showing up to work. How do I know you're not keeping her here against her will?"

"I assume my reputation precedes me and that this issue won't be resolved until you see her for yourself?"

"That's correct."

The very last thing she needed was for this to turn into the next fiasco—for Neal to tell the people of Storybrooke that the Evil Queen had the savior captive—for people to come knocking on her door asking questions about the two mysterious children.

"Very well, then," she accepted her defeat. "Please, come in and make yourself at home in the house your son was raised in."

* * *

Regina found Emma in the upstairs hallway. "Hi," she greeted, trying to hide her level of discomfort, "you have a visitor downstairs."

"Mary-Margaret?"

"Neal."

"Oh," Emma seemed genuinely surprised to hear his name. "You let him in?"

"Well, he seems to think I kidnapped you and have you locked in a dungeon somewhere."

"Jesus," she muttered. "Sorry—I'll get rid of him."

They descended the stairs together, only to find Neal sitting on the couch in the living room as Charlotte hovered in the space in front of him.

"Wait," Emma stopped short in her tracks, "why the hell is Charlotte down here?"

"He already knew," the teenager replied to her mom's inquiry.

"Henry told him," Regina confirmed.

"Regina," the savior desperately grabbed her arm—and the queen could physically feel her panic, "_do something_."

"Like what?"

"I don't know—erase his memory! Isn't there a spell for that?"

"What?!" Neal jumped up from his seat. "Emma? You're_ not_ letting her do magic on me."

"If Henry found out I erased his father's memory he would never forgive me."

"If Gold finds out about Charlotte and Amelia, who the hell knows what he will do," Emma countered, letting a flustered expression take over her face. "I mean, doesn't he see the future? He could figure out what he wants to do to them later on. We literally just promised Amelia she was safe here—he can't know—I don't care what we have to do to keep it that way."

"What the hell are you talking about?" An increasingly confused Neal questioned.

"Your father wants to kill them!" She screamed at him. "That's the reason they're here in the first place. Did you tell him already? Does he know about them?"

Regina thought that for someone who wouldn't admit to actually believing the story, Emma was surely reacting as though she was a believer. The last time she had seen such a dramatic reaction from the blonde was when she was standing outside of this very house—accusing her of murdering Archie.

"No," Neal told them, "he doesn't know anything, I swear."

"Charlotte," Regina turned to her daughter for help, "when Neal first got here, you addressed him like you know him—like you know him well, in fact?"

"I do know him."

"Is he trustworthy?"

"He's not," Emma promised. "He's the goddamn reason I went to jail."

"Emma," Neal tried to reason with her, "I came here to make sure you were okay!"

"In the future," Regina pursued her question, "do Emma and I trust Neal?"

"Yes—future Neal even knows about how we're here and everything. You guys are all pretty close and we always see him when he comes to town."

"I don't care," Emma said. "Gold will get it out of him somehow—he'll use that stupid dream-catcher and read his mind or something."

"Come on, Emma, that's not going to happen. You think I don't know better than to fall for his tricks?"

"Okay, here's the deal," Regina took charge—figuring that someone had to—and she began by appealing to Henry's father. "You and I both ended up in this world in large part as the result of your father's obsession with dark magic. Am I correct?"

"Yes. What's your point?"

"My point is that you are going to keep your mouth shut about what Henry told you and about what you've seen today—because you and I both know that the idea that your father would harm two innocent children to get his way isn't all that farfetched, is it?"

"No, it's not."

"Do you want the blood of two kids on your hands?"

"Of course I don't."

"Do we have an understanding then?"

"Okay."

"Excuse me?" She raised an eyebrow at him—the threatening nature her tone apparent to everyone in the room.

"Yes," he said, louder this time, "we have an understanding."

"Tamara," Charlotte suddenly added. "You can't tell her about this, either. It's, seriously, equally as important that you don't tell her."

"How does she know about Tamara?"

"_She_ has a name," Regina scolded.

"How does Charlotte know about Tamara?" He rephrased the question.

"That's not important," the teenager replied.

"It's only important that you listen to both of them," Emma barked, as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"You're asking me to lie to Tamara?"

"Yes, Neal, I'm asking you nicely to not mention this to her next time you call her—it's none of her business, anyway. And I seriously think the very least you owe me is respect of my privacy."

"Fine, I will keep this from my fiancee. But will you answer me this? Is Regina _your_ fiancee, Emma?"

"Are you the only one allowed to move on after ten years?" She rebutted.

"I just don't understand- a few days ago she broke into the shop and almost choked you death."

"Well, you should know better than anyone, relationships you thought you knew everything about – they can change in a millisecond."

"It just seems a little suspicious that August failed to mention the Savior would marry the Evil Queen? Did he just leave out this part of the prophecy?"

"_She's not evil." _

"_She's not the Evil Queen." _

Charlotte and Emma replied in unison. Charlotte grinned from ear-to-ear at Emma's response—and Regina thought the blonde looked surprised at how quickly the statement came out of her own mouth.

"But let's be clear," Regina smirked, fueled by their support, "if you hurt _anyone_ that I care about—you can damn well be sure that I _will_ be the Evil Queen—and your worst nightmare."

"I don't want to hurt anyone," he surrendered. "All I want is to spend time with the son I never knew I had."

"Well, look at the time," Emma pointed to the clock. "Why don't you go pick him up from school and leave me the hell alone?"

* * *

After Neal left, Regina decided to give Emma some space. But when she realized she hadn't seen the savior for hours, she sought her out. After searching the second floor, Regina found Emma sitting on the couch in the study—the very couch she sat on the night Henry ran away from home and she drove into Storybrooke.

"Have you calmed down, dear?"

"I'm fine," Emma looked up. "He just bugs me. And, frankly, his story doesn't make any sense."

"What story?" Regina sat down next to her—instead of across from her like she had that first night.

"He says he had to leave me—let me go to jail—because August told him that I was the savior. But he was just as connected to this world as I was. In theory, we could've come here together. Now he just expects to waltz back into my life like nothing happened."

"Do you still have feelings for him?" She bluntly asked.

"No, I don't. Well, definitely not in an 'I want to be with you' kind of way. I would never get back with him, or anything. I wish that I didn't care about him at all—but I guess you always feel some sort of affection towards your first love- especially when he's the father of your kid."

"Yes, I believe that is true."

"But the other reason him being here is seriously annoying," she continued, "is because I unknowingly slept with Rumpelstiltskin's son—and frankly, that still hasn't really sunk in just yet."

Regina took the joke as Emma's sign that she wanted to move on—and she had an inexplicable desire to try to make her feel better. "I might just be able to out-do you there."

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Well, my mother slept with Rumpelstiltskin himself."

"Wait," Emma stared at her in awe, "seriously?"

"I assure you I would not joke about that fact," she smirked. It felt good, in an odd way, to talk about her mother again. It was the first time she had been able to casually bring her up in conversation.

"Why and how do you even know that?"

"He made sure to tell me while I was training with him."

"That's seriously disturbing."

"Yes, indeed—so, I hope that makes you feel better about your own life choices. At least you can say you didn't know who you were getting yourself involved with."

"It kind of does make me feel better, actually."

"It was very impressive, you know," Regina continued, "the way you stepped up for the girls when you thought they were in trouble today—even though it meant standing up to someone important to you."

"Yeah, well, you stepped up too when it was all going to hell—And I enjoyed watching you threaten him."

"My threats are much more enjoyable when you're not on the receiving end of them, yes?"

"Exactly," Emma laughed. "I just got really, insanely scared for them. I helped save Gold's life on the way back from New York. I thought he would calm the hell down after he found out Henry was his grandson. But he just looks out for himself, I guess."

"He is the king of manipulation—and you're certainly not the first to have fallen for it."

"Yeah, well, I just want Charlotte and Amelia to be safe. I'm pretty sure that future you would seriously kick my ass if something happened to them."

"I think we did well with them today."

"I think so, too."

"But I want to fix things with Henry," Regina said. "I don't like how we left him at the apartment after the disaster that was last night. And I don't like that he's spending all of his time with Neal and your parents."

"I agree- but him coming here will complicate things."

"Yes, well, at this point we are thriving on complications."

"Seriously."

Their attention was refocused on the door when Amelia walked into the room. "I need a bath," she declared.

"Okay—sweetheart, I'll meet you upstairs in a minute?"

The girl nodded before quickly running off.

"You were right, Regina. Little kids are exhausting."

"I'll take care of her," the brunette offered. "You had an unexpected ending to your day."

"No, I mean, I wasn't complaining," Emma fumbled. "Do you mind—if I come, too? I should probably learn how to do this, anyway—you know, if they're going to be here for a little while longer."

"No," she said, honestly, "I don't mind at all."

* * *

After the bath and bedtime routine, Emma contemplated where to sleep. The couch in the living room, she thought, would be fine if she just found the right pillow and blanket to bring with her.

"Regina," Emma knocked before opening the bedroom door. "Do you have another blanket, or something? I think I'm going to crash downstairs tonight."

"We spent all day trying to fool Amelia and now you are going to openly sleep in the living room? Does that not scream _divorce_ to you?"

"I know. But I just don't think I can take another night in Henry's room."

Regina was silent—and Emma didn't know what it meant, or how to read it.

"Just lay down," she finally instructed.

"What?" Emma asked, genuinely not understanding the meaning.

"You are small—and this bed is big—get in and stay on that side."

"Are you sure?"

"You quite literally have five seconds until I change my mind."

Emma didn't want to argue about it and took it as a sign of kindness. She climbed into bed and left plenty of space between them. All she wanted was a night of uninterrupted rest.

"What the hell?" She asked, after getting under the covers. "Is this mattress made out of magical unicorn feathers, or something? This is the most comfortable bed I have ever been on in my life."

"Unicorns don't have feathers," the queen stated matter-of-factly.

"Wait….are you saying that unicorns are real?"

"Of course they are."

"Honestly, I don't even know why I ask these questions anymore," she sighed. "In any case, my point was that this bed feels like heaven. Which I guess is a good thing since this is apparently where I'll be sleeping till death do us part."

The joke hung over them—which made Emma regret making it almost as soon as she had said it. Regina though clearly startled by it, acted unfazed.

"Apparently," she turned off the light.

Emma closed her eyes, basking in the glory of just how comfortable she was. Perhaps, a little too comfortable. She was little too comfortable with more than just the feeling of the sheets against her skin.


	8. Party Planning

Hi, friends! :] This chapter took a little while to post but it's, once again, somehow super long so I hope the wait was worth it. It also took a lot of work because it sets up the rest of the story and I am finally about to get to all of the parts I am most excited about. I sincerely hope you continue to enjoy it.

* * *

_Regina pours exactly three drops of the latest experimental ingredient into the vile; a small cloud of purple smoke puffs up in reaction. _

_She looks at the picture in the spell book—and then back to the vile—back to the book—and then back to the vile. She repeats the action three more times before she is certain that the images match._

_But they do, indeed, match. _

_She is so accustomed to failure that she wonders if she is dreaming. She feels her face breaks out into an uncontrollable grin and, all at once, she knows it is real. _

"_Emma!" She shrieks at the top of her lungs. "Henry!" _

_As soon as the two names escape her lips she hears the sound of footsteps stampeding down the staircase. _

"_What's wrong?" Emma demands, as she comes running into the kitchen. Her eyes automatically travel to Regina's bandaged palm. "What's going on?" _

_The savior is standing barefoot in her boxers and a tank top. Seconds later, their son runs up behind her and nearly crashes into her. _

"_Mom?" Henry questions. "What happened?"_

_Regina is almost afraid to speak the words out loud-as if she might jinx it—as if the world might take this triumph away from her. But Emma and Henry are staring at her, anxiously waiting for her to explain. She stands up from the table and takes a deep breath. _

"_I finished the first spell." _

"_Really?" Emma jumps up at the words—and Regina laughs, just a little, at the unbridled enthusiasm. _

"_Really," she confirms. "It worked—well, this one did." _

"_I am so proud of you, Regina." _

"_Does this mean you'll stop for a meal?" Henry asks. As much as he is excited about the encouraging news, his concern for his mother's well-being is unwavering._

"_I think I will." _

"_You will?" Emma is shocked. "What do you want? I'll make you anything in the whole entire world." _

"_That's a nice sentiment, Ma. But you can't cook." _

"_Oh, right," she pouts. "That could be a slight issue." _

"_Henry," Regina looks to her son, "will you please go pick us up some sandwiches? Our usual?"_

"_You're going to eat an entire sandwich?" the blonde exclaims. "This just keeps getting better and better." _

"_Of course I'll go get them," Henry approaches the woman who raised him and kisses her on the forehead. "I knew you could do it; I love you." _

"_Thank you, Henry—I love you, too." _

_Before he is even entirely out of the kitchen, Regina feels Emma all over her—kissing her, holding her, whispering praise in her ear. For a few minutes, Regina allows the celebrations. For a few minutes, she is proud of herself. _

_But she quickly remembers that the job is only half way done—and, even more so, she remembers the day that is quickly approaching. _

_She needs to talk to her wife about something—something she's been meaning to bring up—something she doesn't want to say out loud—but something she knows she must. _

"_I need to talk to you, Emma."_

"_About what? How you're a magical rock-star?" _

"_No," she says, seriously. "Charlotte's birthday." _

_The two words change the entire atmosphere of the room—and tension crawls back onto Emma's face. "Don't remind me," she cringes. _

"_I think that you should go to her." _

"_I can't go to her?" _

"_You can—you can use the time travel potion and go yourself."_

_Emma removes herself from her wife's embrace and takes a step back. "What the hell are you talking about?"_

"_I think that you should go tomorrow—and I'll stay here—I'll finish the second spell and then when it's all over I'll come get the three of you."_

"_I don't understand what you're even saying."_

"_Yes, love—you do." _

"_No way," Emma rejects the idea firmly, "I'm not going to leave you to deal with Gold by yourself—it's too dangerous." _

"_I'm not going to be by myself. I'm going to be with your parents—and Henry—and Neal, even." _

"_But our magic—together, combined, both of us—that's what makes us unstoppable." _

"_You don't think we can do it without you? The plan hardly involves you at all." _

"_I didn't mean that you need me to do it—I just meant…"_

"_I understand," Regina clarifies—because she does. She understands the many reasons Emma doesn't want to leave her—but she is equally as determined to get her wife to see the bigger picture._

"_We usually take things on together," Emma finishes her thought anyway—just to make sure she is being clear—because it's not that she doubts Regina's abilities—she merely believes they are a team that shouldn't be separated._

"_I despise the idea of you going," the brunette admits. "But our daughter is only going to have one sixteenth birthday. Frankly, I don't think I will live through it unless I know one of us is with her."_

"_So why don't you go to her—and I'll stay here."_

"_Because I'm better at magic than you are." She is not bragging—or being cocky—it's a fact they both understand._

_Emma doesn't know how she is losing the argument—but she is certain that she is. She decides to take another tacit—raise another heart-felt concern. "You crushed glass into your fist yesterday. I'm afraid to leave you."_

"_You don't trust me?" _

"_To take care of yourself? Not at the moment, honestly."_

"_That's fair," Regina acknowledges. "You can assign your mother to babysit me if it will make you feel better." _

"_You want my mother to stay with you?" _

_Of course, it is not what Regina wants—none of this is what she wants. But she is trying to make the best decisions she can for all of them. "She told me that she loved me yesterday."_

"_Of course she loves you—I've known that for a long time." _

"_I didn't," she confesses. "But now I realize that they will do anything to help us—and I'll be okay with them for a few days." _

"_You're dead serious about this whole thing aren't you?" _

"_I am," she nods. "I don't think this next spell should be as difficult for me. I just need a little bit more time—I can taste how close we are to all of this being over."_

"_And this is really what you think is right for our family?" _

"_Yes," the affirmation is stated without hesitation, "I do." _

"_Okay," Emma agrees. She thinks back to her own sixteenth birthday—one of many she spent entirely alone. Her whole adult existence has been about providing her children with a better life—and this moment shouldn't be any different, even if it's harder. Charlotte deserves more than what she had—and she knows that Regina is thinking the same. "You're right." _

"_My savior," Regina brings her wife back into her arms and kisses her softly. "Forever and always." _

"_We've never really been apart before. I think I've seen you every single, solitary day since we got on that ship to Neverland." _

"_I know." _

_There is nothing left for Emma to say. This, she understands, is what motherhood is all about. And she wants, more than anything, to be with Charlotte and Amelia. She wants to hold them in her arms—she wants to sing happy birthday to her beautiful daughter. _

_She just doesn't want to do it alone._

* * *

Regina woke up and the first thing she realized was that the weight of something, or someone, was around her hip. It took her only a moment to process that the left leg of the savior was somehow tangled around her body.

So much for Emma staying on her side, she thought to herself.

Without moving a single muscle, she was able to read the blurry, bright green numbers on her alarm clock. It was 4:48 A.M.

Too early to get up, she quickly and happily decided. She was warm—and strangely comfortable.

It had been a long time since she had felt contact like this—it had been a long time since anyone invaded her personal space this closely.

It usually made her feel rather claustrophobic—the weight of another person's body on her own. It usually made her panic—made her feel the need to escape—made her feel like danger was fast approaching.

But, somehow, Emma was different—because Emma understood—Emma had been through things, too—Emma meant her no harm.

Regina knew she was in no danger—she knew that if she wanted Emma off of her, all she had to do was simply move.

And yet, she chose not to.

Because she wouldn't want to wake the blonde up unnecessarily, she told herself.

She was too sleepy to get into the internal debate about whether or not that was a blatant and treacherous lie.

She closed her eyes and promptly fell back to sleep.

* * *

Emma woke up to the sound of footsteps in the hallway. It took her a few moments to grasp her surroundings—to remember that Regina Mills had offered her the spot next to her in bed.

Emma was supposed to stay on her own assigned side, she recalled. But when she noticed that she was staring directly into the back of the brunette's head, essentially spooning her, she scolded herself for her inability to remain still while she slept.

Charlotte had told her that Regina was a light sleeper—so Emma was extra-careful as she untangled their limbs and scooted back over to the far side of the bed. She sat up and looked over at the clock—it read 7:52 AM.

The sound of footsteps got perpetually louder—and before she had time to rub the sleep out of her eyes, the bedroom door swung open.

"Mommy, do you know where mom is?" Charlotte asked, as she barged into the room without hesitation.

"Morning, kid," Emma groggily replied as she rested her chin on her knees.

Charlotte failed to hide the surprised look on her face—and Emma braced herself for what was undoubtedly going to be a gloating teenager. But they both turned their attention to Regina, who stirred and stretched out her arms in response to the commotion.

"Good-morning," Regina said, as she also sat up. "Everything alright?"

"You _both_ slept in here?"

"Don't get any ideas," Emma warned.

"I'm not," Charlotte solemnly replied. Emma thought it was a little out of character, the fact that she wasn't reveling in the situation she had walked in on—but the sheriff assumed maybe it was just too early for the kid to push their buttons.

"My back hurt," she explained, just to make sure it was clear, "and your sister was starting to think I spent my whole life in time-out."

"I know," the girl accepted without argument or protest. "I came in here to tell you that Henry is downstairs."

"He is?" Regina frantically jumped out of bed. "I want to talk to him—I want to see him."

The mayor grabbed her robe, wrapped it around her body, and stormed out of the room.

"Did he say why he was here?" Emma asked Charlotte, when the two of them were left alone.

"Not really."

"I'm glad he is. Regina was just saying last night that she was worried about how he's taking all of this—especially after dinner."

"That's understandable."

Emma stared curiously at the girl—and she concluded that something was _definitely_ wrong. This was more than just a cranky teenager who didn't want to be up before noon. Charlotte was usually so cheery, so spirited. Instead, this morning, she seemed distant and distracted.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, sorry, nothing," she promised. "I'm fine."

"You're lying," Emma pushed her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Being home sick in your own home is weird, that's all."

"Can I do anything?"

Charlotte sighed and looked as though she was thinking about if there was, in fact, anything Emma could do. Finally, the young girl approached the savior and pulled her into an unexpected hug.

Emma did it her best to respond accordingly—and she squeezed Charlotte tighter.

"Sorry," the girl muttered, when she finally pulled away.

"No, don't be sorry."

"You should probably go see what Henry wants."

"Yeah—I guess I should."

* * *

Emma found Regina and Henry in the downstairs hallway awkwardly staring at each other. She could tell the brunette was searching for anything at all to say to their son, but didn't seem to be having much success.

"Hey," she approached them both, hoping she could do something to ease the tension.

"How long are you going to stay here for, Emma?" Henry skipped the greetings and demanded answers.

"A little while longer, kid. I can't leave your mom alone to take care of Charlotte and Amelia. That wouldn't really be fair."

"It's also not fair that I haven't seen either one of you all week."

"Someone misses us," Emma joked. "That's adorable."

"I do," he admitted, "but I still think something is weird here—like a curse."

"I guess you could be right," she appeased him—she knew Henry didn't react well to being told his theories were impossible. "But Charlotte and Amelia are still alone in this town and someone needs to take care of them—your mom and I are the only people they trust right now, okay?"

"Alright—I guess that makes sense."

"We thought you were upset, Henry," Regina added. "That's why you haven't seen us—we wanted to give you time and space."

"Emma," he ignored his adoptive mother's statement, "what about all the stuff you said at dinner?"

"First things first: I shouldn't have yelled at your mom. It wasn't appropriate."

"Charlotte yelled, too," he replied.

"I know," Emma said. "But, it turns out, she was right about a lot of stuff."

"Like what?"

"That's for you and your mom to talk about—when she's ready to tell you and you're ready to listen. But you've got to be at school in fifteen minutes—so now isn't the time."

"You're not mad at her?"

"Regina? No, kid—I'm not mad at her at all."

Henry finally turned to the former-queen, involving her in the conversation. "And you're not fighting with Emma, mom?"

"No, Henry- Emma and I have moved on from our differences, believe it or not."

"Is what Emma said true? That you have stuff to talk to me about?"

"Yes," Regina confirmed. "I suppose there are some things that I need to explain to you."

"So you were lying to me _again_?"

"No," she promised, as her voice cracked. "I swear, I wasn't."

Emma realized, for the first time, that this woman clearly had never intended to lie to her son. She understood that what Regina wanted was a family of her _own_ choosing—not the one dictated to her by Leopold or Cora. And Regina had chosen Henry—chosen to love him and care for him and treat him as her own.

"She's right," Emma echoed. "She wasn't lying—it's an adult conversation that you need to have—thankfully, you're a super mature kid so we know you can handle it."

"I can handle it," he assured them both. "But, uh, there's something else—another reason why I came over here."

"What is it, dear?"

"I need one of you to sign this," he said, as he pulled out a crumbled piece of paper from his backpack.

Emma took the sheet out of his hands; Regina hovered over her shoulder.

"You failed your math test?" The brunette asked. Emma thought she didn't sound angry—just shocked—it was obvious from the tone that this had never happened before.

"I was a little distracted this week."

"Did you just use us as an excuse for not doing well on this? That's pretty lame, kid."

"It's not an excuse; it's the truth."

"I'll sign it," Regina gave in. "Do you have a pen?"

Emma watched as the mayor took a pen from her son's hands and added her signature next to the giant, red 62. "I already got an extra-credit assignment to make up for it," he promised. "But it's really hard."

"You know who could help you?" Emma offered. "Charlotte, she's super smart."

"She is?"

"If you come over after school today, you could find out for yourself."

"If she even wants to help me—she was really mad at dinner."

"Charlotte," Emma called up the stairs. "Come down here for a second."

Moments later, the girl appeared on the bottom step—unsure what she was walking in on. "What's up?"

"Henry wants to ask you something," Emma informed her.

"What is it?"

The boy remained silent at first, clearly intimidated by the sister who accused him of being an ungrateful son.

"Go on, kid—ask her."

"Will you, uh, help me with my math extra-credit after school?"

"Oh, sure—I can help you."

"Cool," he nervously shuffled his feet. "Thanks."

"No problem. Honestly, it's the least I can do. You helped me with my homework a lot when I was little."

"Oh," he looked up at her, "that's totally weird."

"I thought I already told you 'weird' is our norm."

He smiled at the teenager—and then glanced back to both of his mothers. "Get to school, Henry," Emma instructed.

"We'll see you later," Regina called after him, as he headed out the door. "Have a good day, sweetheart."

* * *

At 4:00 PM Henry and Charlotte were sprawled out on the living room floor working on math problems while Amelia bounced around the kitchen following Emma.

Regina was ecstatic to have her son back under her roof—even if the reason was that, for the first time in his life, he failed a test. She knew he would make it up—and she knew he did, indeed, have a lot of other things on his mind.

She decided to bake oatmeal raisin cookies for an afternoon snack. She was willing to admit that it was, partially, a bribe—but she was also simply running out of things to do and was beginning to feel a little stir crazy in the house.

She wasn't the only one, either—she shot Emma a sympathetic look. The blonde had exhausted all the game options she could come up with trying to keep Amelia entertained. The toddler was getting cranky but had completely rejected the idea of a nap.

"Mom," Amelia pulled at Emma's jeans, "can I make a drawing for Charlotte?"

"Regina?" Emma turned immediately to her for an answer. Regina noticed the savior gaining confidence around Charlotte—but she still seemed nervous when dealing with the younger child.

"That's a sweet idea, Amelia, of course you can. I am sure I can find you some paper and crayons."

"No, I want to use paint."

"Then that's not a drawing, dear—that's a painting," she lovingly corrected. "What do you want to paint her a picture of?"

"A cake—a chocolate cake."

"A cake, huh? Well, that sounds like a delicious painting."

"It's going to be the best birthday cake!" She enthusiastically shouted.

"A birthday cake?" Emma asked, thrown by the reference.

"For Charlotte's birthday."

"Right—of course," Regina tried to play it cool—but she felt her stomach jump into her throat. She put the fresh-out-of-the-oven cookies on a small plate and walked over to Amelia. "I will look for some paint—can you bring these cookies inside for me? You can have a few, if you want."

"Sure!" Amelia agreed, before taking the cookies and carefully walking into the living room.

"Did you hear what she just said, Emma? She said Charlotte's birthday, right? I'm not hearing things?"

"Yeah, shit, she definitely said that—do you think it's today or soon or something?"

"Well, I certainly think we need to find out."

"Are we just going to ask her? Isn't that kind of strange?"

It was, definitely, strange—for a mother to ask her own child when her birthday was. But Regina was more uncomfortable with the alternative—ignoring the situation entirely. "Do you have another suggestion?"

"Not really," the blonde admitted. "I guess we don't have a choice."

"Charlotte," Regina called into the living room, "can we speak to you for a minute?"

"Hey," the girl greeted them—as she chewed on a cookie, "these are really good."

"Sweetheart," Regina began, "I have to ask you something that might seem strange."

"What is it?"

"Is it your _birthday _today?"

Charlotte looked back and forth between them, as if she couldn't decide how to answer. Finally, she quietly admitted the truth: "No, it's tomorrow."

"Seriously, kid? Were you going to tell us?"

"Honestly, no—I wasn't planning to."

"Why the hell not?"

"It's just too weird—and I don't really feel like celebrating, anyway."

"But isn't it your sixteenth birthday?"

Regina watched the exchange as she searched her own mind for the right solution to the predicament.

"Yes—I was supposed to have a big party—that's obviously not happening—and that's totally fine—I'm just lucky to be safe this year, I guess."

"We have to do something," Emma concluded. "We're not just going to ignore your birthday no matter what you say. This is why you were upset this morning, isn't it? You were thinking about not being home on your birthday?"

"You were upset this morning?" Regina was appalled that she was unaware. "How come I didn't know about this?"

"Because it's not a big deal."

"It's a big deal to _me_ if you're upset," she insisted.

"This isn't even why I was upset," the girl snapped. "I'm not a brat who cares about some superficial party—I'm upset because for all I know, in the future, my entire family has already been killed by Gold and I'm going to be stuck here forever. So, I don't really feel like being all that happy that I'm turning sixteen."

"Charlotte," the brunette frowned, as her heart-ached. "I'm sure everything is going fine back home."

"No, I have absolutely no way of knowing what's going on with you two, or Henry, or Nana and Pop—you could all be dead—and then what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Kid—if anyone could deal with Gold it's your mom. She would never let anything bad happen to you."

"And Emma is the savior," Regina added. "She is quite capable of handling him."

"It wasn't supposed to take this long," Charlotte told them. "It was only supposed to be a few days."

"There has to be an explanation, dear."

"This wasn't even where I was supposed to end up so how are you two going to know where to find me? You could be looking for me in the wrong place."

"I wouldn't worry about that, Charlotte," Emma comforted her. "You're technically a Charming and you know how that whole finding each other thing just always seems to work out."

"I understand, completely, why you're not in a celebratory mood," Regina continued. "But, if you let us, I promise we'll try to make the most out it. I know it won't be how you pictured it, and I know you'll be worried- but can we _please, _at least, plan a nice day for you?"

"Okay," Charlotte hesitantly approved. "I guess so."

"Is there anything in particular you would want?" Emma tried.

"Not really," she shrugged. "I don't know."

"Alright, love—don't worry about anything—we'll take care of it."

"Okay, well, thanks," she gave them a halfhearted smile."I think I should get back to long division now."

* * *

It was past midnight—the house was dark and quiet. Regina and Emma sat alone in the kitchen both at a loss for where to begin.

"This is horrible," Emma bluntly stated. "I feel really, seriously, bad for her."

"I know—so do I."

"Do we get her a present? Can she even take things back with her when she leaves? How much stuff can you time travel with?"

"I don't know any more about time travel than you do."

"And if we get her a card—how are we supposed to sign it? I can't just write 'Emma' and I can't write 'Mom—though technically not the one you actually want to be with today.''"

She was well aware that she was rambling—but she couldn't seem to stop herself. Emma was somewhat startled at how worried and upset she was for the teenager girl that had bulldozed into her life.

"I know," Regina's whisper made it obvious she was just as concerned.

"I don't know how the hell we're supposed to do this. We literally have no idea what we are doing."

"We can take it one step at a time; I usually start with a list."

"_Of course_ you're a list person, Regina."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing."

"It's an anal retentive thing."

"I prefer the term organized."

"Who are we inviting?" Emma asked.

"Your parents, I suppose."

"Yes—because the last dinner we had with them went so well that we should totally do it again; that will make for a super happy birthday."

"Have you even spoken to them?"

"I've talked to Mary-Margaret on the phone."

"Do you think they'll come? I think that Charlotte would want them to be there."

"They will come if I ask them to. I can call them in the morning."

"So just the four of us and Henry?"

"Every sixteen year old girls dream—a party with her parents, siblings and grandparents."

"What_ do_ sixteen year old girls want?" Regina inquired genuinely.

"What did you want for your birthday at that age?" Emma joked—but she immediately regretted it when she noticed a pained look on the former queen's face.

"My mother didn't really care too much for birthdays. She didn't understand what the big deal was. And every year I got older was another year I hadn't done anything to move us up the social ladder."

"So you didn't even celebrate, or anything?"

"Not usually—my dad would sometimes try though. My sixteenth birthday was one of the only ones I remember fondly. My father got me my horse that year—the one Daniel eventually taught me how to ride."

"We didn't really celebrate a lot of birthdays in foster care, either—and by sixteen I was already in with a bad crowd. Truthfully, I don't even remember what I did that year. I just hated feeling alone—like nobody cared that I was born."

"I used to feel alone even though I was with my family—which, in a way, is probably how Charlotte's going to feel. She won't be alone but nothing will be quite right."

"Balloons?" Emma thought out loud. "I feel like there should just be a crap-load of balloons and streamers. I think streamers are fun."

"That is doable. We could get her flowers—everybody likes flowers, I think? We could get sixteen roses."

"You should bake that lasagna you made at our welcome back party—and you should bake the cake because your cookies were delicious."

"That's a good idea, actually."

Emma watched as Regina sprung up from her seat and started maneuvering around her kitchen. Apparently, despite the late hour, the baking was going to happen then and there. The blonde wondered how in the hell this woman had the energy. She, personally, was about ready to collapse. She was content to put her head down on the table as she listened to the sound of pots and pans clattering about.

"Are you going to help me or are you going to sit there and fall asleep on my table?" Regina's voice interrupted her dozing.

"I'm afraid to help," Emma admitted, as she lifted her head. "This seems very intense."

"That's a convenient excuse."

"Seriously, Regina—I'll screw it up—and then you'll yell at me."

"While that _is _typically our relationship dynamic—there isn't really much to screw up here."

"Okay," Emma stood up and moved toward the counter. "But if this cake comes out tasting like feet you'll have only yourself to blame."

"You can just work on the frosting—that part is easy."

"You make your own frosting?"

"Yes, of course—and I already put the ingredients in this bowl. All you have to do is mix it gently."

Emma stared at the contents: sugar, milk, butter and what looked like some sort of coco powder. She picked up the wooden spoon and began aggressively moving it around the bowl in circles.

"No—Emma," Regina corrected her, "I said to be _gentle_—it has to be fluffy."

"I told you I don't know what I'm doing."

"Just tilt the bowl slightly towards your body—not too much," she instructed before placing her hand on top of Emma's own, "and then—just stir it like this."

"Thanks," Emma smiled—and she was painfully aware that she didn't want Regina to separate their hands. She felt happy under the mayor's direction- she felt like she was learning something.

But, of course, Regina removed her hand after mere seconds. Emma followed the directions and kept mixing until, much to her surprise, delicious looking frosting began to appear. She brought the spoon to her mouth and tasted it.

"That's disgusting," Regina scolded her, "Henry does the same thing."

"Everyone tastes the frosting."

"And that's fine—but you _don'_t put the spoon you licked _back_ into the bowl."

"Whatever, it's too late now."

"Well, is it at least good?"

"It is."

"I'm done as well," she said—as she bent over and put the pan of batter in the oven. "Would you like a glass of wine while we wait?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

They sat in a comfortable silence drinking red wine—Emma wanted, just for a single moment, for things to be a little less serious.

"You know," she began, "I was thinking—technically, this whole situation could be worse."

"It could?" Regina raised her eyebrow, intrigued by the thought.

"Yeah, I mean at least you're hot. Imagine if someone came to you from the future and told you that you married someone ugly."

"It's good to know where your priorities are."

"I am joking," she promised. "Relax."

"Do you really think that?"

"Think what?"

"That I'm 'hot'?"

"Is this a trick question?" Emma laughed. "Is there a person on earth who_ doesn't_ think you're hot?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask the whole planet, I just asked you."

"Come on, you know you're hot."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because that's how you carry yourself."

"Did you just call me arrogant?"

"No," Emma insisted, wishing she hadn't opened her damn mouth in the first place. But now that she had gotten herself into this mess, she needed to find a way out. "I'm calling you confident. You have a very confident walk."

"I was taught to walk like a queen because it conveys power—I'm not sure what that has to do with anything we're currently talking about."

"So you expect me to believe it's just a mayoral act to convey power?"

She studied Regina's face—waiting for her to speak. But when the brunette merely replied by glancing down at the table, Emma realized just how real the insecurity was.

"Shit—it _is _an act, isn't it? You don't know you're gorgeous? You're like the most beautiful person I have seen in my whole life."

"Well, that is a ridiculous example of hyperbole."

"No—it's just ridiculously true; I thought that even when I hated your guts."

"You did?"

"Yeah I was like, 'Henry's adoptive mother is a huge pain-in the-ass-bitch but damn is she smoking.'"

"What a lovely sentiment."

"I'm just saying, despite whatever other issues we have, I'm not going to find a more attractive spouse any time soon—you're out of my league."

"Well, I wouldn't say that." The way in which Regina lowered her voice and looked her directly in the eyes made Emma shift in her seat. They weren't ready for this conversation to go further. Emma wanted a light subject but, somehow, they had landed right back in the middle of serious. She was begging for the subject to be changed.

_"_I have a confession to make," Regina spoke, answering the prayer.

"What?"

"I am scared of how much I am falling in love with these children. I'm at a point where I don't even care if they're mine or if they're made out of fairy dust. I just know that I love them."

"That's not breaking news. I saw it in your eyes the second you brought them into the station. But what might be breaking news is that _I'm_ starting to feel the same way."

"You are?"

"Charlotte hugged me this morning and I realized how much I wanted to make her feel better. She's such a good kid and she deserves the whole world. And even when Amelia was driving me off the wall with her energy, I didn't mind."

Before Regina could say another word, the timer buzzed, signaling the cake was done.

"You can go up to bed, dear. I'm just going to put this in the refrigerator—we will let it cool off over night and frost it tomorrow."

Emma agreed—she was beginning to seriously feel the combination of her exhaustion and wine. So she put her glass in the sink and headed up the stairs.

On the second floor, she was faced with a choice—Regina hadn't specified where she should sleep. The savior's eyes traveled to Henry's room. Their son had gone back to the apartment, which meant his room was certainly an option.

But her choice had already been made.

"Well then," she said out loud, wondering when falling asleep with Regina Mills had become such an appealing option, "that's new."


	9. Sweet 16 (Part One)

**Hi guys :) This next chapter is broken down into two parts. Mostly, because I am going away for two days to sign the lease for my first apartment (yay) and I didn't want to make you wait that long for an update. I promise that I will continue this ASAP! I didn't get to reply to a lot of the reviews, but I plan to do that tomorrow on my roadtrip. Enjoy! **

* * *

_Emma stands in the middle of her bedroom filling up an old backpack she pulled from the depths of her closet. One bag is all she gets to take on her journey through time—and she is trying to fit in as much as she can. _

_Her parents and son are in the room with her. She has called the trio upstairs to talk to them one last time, to get her final words in, before she departs._

_"I need you guys to be on top of your game while I'm gone," she instructs as she continues to pack. "Henry, it's your job to make sure your mom eats while she works." _

_"Ma, she wouldn't listen to you about that-how am I supposed to get her to listen to me?" _

_"I don't know; you have to do whatever it takes. You're still her little boy so guilt her into it if you have to."_

_"Alright," he agrees. "I'll tell her I'll only eat when she does, or something." _

_"You know… as annoying as it was when you were younger, I'm now really glad you can be such a creative liar when you need to be." _

_"Thanks," he beams, proudly. "Can I give you a birthday card for Charlotte?" _

_"Yeah, put it in the backpack," she tells him. "And be careful Henry, okay? I know you can handle yourself with Gold—but just stay safe—and keep your father in the loop—you and I both know this isn't easy on him either." _

_"I know, I will," he promises. "Tell my sisters I love them; and don't take too long to come home."_

_She nods before giving her son a hug—neither one of them wants to make too much of a fuss about her leaving—both preferring to pretend it's no big deal. It is easier for them not to acknowledge the countless ways this could go horribly wrong. _

_Her parents are another story, of course—they've talked to her about those possibilities and voiced their concerns. In the end, though, even they know this is undoubtedly the right decision. _

"_And you two," Emma turns her attention to them, "while I fully expect everything to go according to the plan, if it comes down to it—you don't let Gold touch a single hair on Regina's head—understood?" _

_"Of course," Snow pledges. _

_"I know we don't want to hurt him but..."_

_"But we'll do whatever it takes to protect our daughter-in-law," David completes the thought. "You have our word on that." _

_"Thank you," she says genuinely. She gives them both a hug as well— she knows they wouldn't let her leave without one. _

_"I know it's stupid but I still get anxious whenever you leave me," her mother confesses. "It never gets easier." _

_"And I love you for feeling that way, mom. But you don't have to worry because 'we'll always find each other' and all that good crap." _

_"All that good crap, huh?" David chuckles at her. "My daughter is such a poet." _

"_Alright," she says as she frees herself from their arms. "Let's get this over with." _

_Emma picks up the backpack from her bed and secures the straps on her shoulders. The four of them walk down the stairs where they find Regina pacing back and forth._

_The sight of her nervous wife makes Emma's stomach churn—they've never really had to say good-bye like this; her level of discomfort at the thought of their separation is immeasurable. _

"_You're all packed?" Regina mundanely asks, as if she's merely leaving for a run-of-the-mill weekend getaway. _

"_Yes—I think I'm good." _

_"I have something for you." _

_"What is it? I'm running out of space in my bag." _

"_This shouldn't take up too much room," Regina presses a blue candle into the savior's palm—the very candle that started it all. "It brought Henry to your doorstep; it brought you to my doorstep." _

_Emma stares at the object in awe and then looks back up at her wife with love apparent in her eyes. "I can't believe you even have this." _

_"Of course I have it," Regina replies. "And I enchanted it so that it will bring you to Charlotte and Amelia. As long as you're holding this, you'll end up where they are. And if you make it there in time for cake, our daughter can make a wish on it, too." _

"_Dual purpose candle," she jokes—because banter, after all, is their comfort zone. "You're always the pragmatist in this marriage, aren't you?" _

_"You have to go now," the brunette states, as she pulls Emma in for an all-consuming hug. It's their fifth, and final, hug of the day._

_"I know," Emma agrees. "I know I do."_

_The stand perfectly still and silent as they hold each other close for longer than they know they should. The time is ticking away—but they can't seem to help it. _

_"Tell the girls that I love them," Regina says when she finally steps back. "And that I'll be there as soon as I can." _

_"I will." _

_"And if anything happens to you, Emma, I swear..."_

_"You'll kill me," she finishes. "That works both ways, you know. If something happens to you, I'll kill you even worse." _

"_You've got yourself a deal," Regina places one last kiss on her wife's lips before handing her a small, wooden box—the key to traveling to her impossible destination. _

"_I love you, Regina." _

"_I love you, too." _

_Emma looks around the room at her family—and she cannot help but to feel her own fear. But she knows she must be brave—if Charlotte and Amelia could do this, so can she. _

_She might be leaving her family behind—but she's going to her family, too—it's just one of the many bizarre paradoxes that life in Storybrooke has brought her. _

_She opens the box and is surrounded by a cloud of golden smoke—she feels it tingle against her skin. The ground beneath them shakes, as if they are in the middle of an earthquake._

_In a flash, everything is still once more—Emma is gone—and the box sits empty in front of them. _

_Henry grabs Regina's hand and gives her a reassuring squeeze. The Queen nods at the rest of her family members, trying to signal that she is okay. _

_The deed is done; there is no turning back. _

_Now, she must get to work._

* * *

Emma watched as Regina rearranged the breakfast tray for the fourth time in five minutes. She was somewhere between completely amused and slightly worried for the woman's sanity.

"Regina," she said in a solemn voice, "I think you should move the orange juice three inches to the left."

The brunette dutifully followed the instructions before lifting her head up and furrowing her brow. "Are you mocking me?"

"Maybe," the savior admitted with a grin. "But only because everything looks great and you're being ridiculous."

"I'm nervous," Regina frowned. "I'm very nervous."

"Why?"

"Charlotte was so upset yesterday—what if we overwhelm her? What if this is all wrong? What if we make it worse?"

"I don't think it's possible for pancakes to make anything worse? But that's just my opinion."

"Should we go up now?" The mayor continued her questions. "Or should we let her sleep?"

"We should go up now, I think—I told David and Mary-Margaret to come over with Henry in the afternoon and we should give Charlotte plenty of time to get ready."

"And you were clear with them that we're all going to have to play nice for today?"

"Yes; everything is going to be fine—seriously, relax."

"Very well; I will try my best too."

"I'll carry this," Emma said as she picked up the tray. She figured if she started walking up the stairs, Regina would surely have to follow. "Come on."

Her plan worked—and the two women climbed the stairs together. When they reached Charlotte's door Regina knocked three times before pushing it open.

"Charlotte," she whispered—but the teenager was clearly still asleep. Regina sat down on the bed and gently placed her hand on her daughter's leg. "Wake up, dear."

The birthday girl opened her eyes in response—and as she did, Regina immediately burst out into song.

"_Happy birthday to you—happy birthday to you." _

It took Emma by surprise, how beautiful her voice was—indeed, the blonde was so shocked by the soothing tone of the familiar melody that it took her a minute to realize she was supposed to join in.

"_Happy birthday to you- happy birthday dear Charlotte—happy birthday to you." _

When the former enemies finished the song in unison, Emma carefully placed the tray over Charlotte's lap and sat down next to Regina.

"Thanks," Charlotte smiled at them. "Breakfast in bed, huh?"

"Yes," the mayor nodded. "Is that okay? Do you like it? We can make you something else if you don't want pancakes."

"She's barely conscious, Regina; give her a chance."

"It's perfect," the teenager promised them. "And kind of weird, because this is exactly what you would've done."

"If you were home, you mean?" Emma questioned—as she saw Regina exhale in relief. Clearly, they had done something right—they had given her a sense of normalcy.

"Yeah," Charlotte confirmed—she picked up the fork and took a bite out of the first of four, giant pancakes. "Who made these?"

"Why, dear? Are they not good?"

"No, mommy, they are delicious which makes me think you made them. But I taste cinnamon, which makes me think mom made them..."

"The more important question, kid, is do you like the cinnamon?"

"Of course I do."

"I knew it!" Emma dramatically squealed. "I told you so.'

"I made the pancakes," Regina clarified. "Emma hovered over my shoulder and wouldn't shut up until I added cinnamon."

"It was some expert hovering—some of my finest work, I will admit to that."

The brunette playfully shoved her shoulder as Amelia came charging into the room carrying a bouquet of sixteen roses.

"Happy birthday!" the toddler yelled as she jumped up onto the bed, almost knocking over the tray in the process.

"Whoa, kid—careful—you almost ended up wearing Charlotte's breakfast."

"These are for you," Amelia handed over the arrangement. "There are sixteen—just like you."

"I love them Amelia—they're beautiful."

"You're welcome," the younger girl replied before climbing into Regina's lap.

"You guys realize I'm never going to be able to eat all of this by myself," Charlotte observed. "Who wants to help me?"

"I do!" Amelia enthusiastically cheered.

"Me too," Emma agreed.

"Mommy?"

"Sure—I suppose I'd be willing to try this cinnamon concoction- but_ only_ because it's your birthday."

The four of them sat together and enjoyed the feast.

* * *

"I bet I could make it work," Emma insisted, as she played with Charlotte's freshly blown-out hair in the bathroom. "I've got this really great hairspray that I could try on you."

"Mom," Charlotte whined back at her, "I have lived through this. My hair does not curl no matter what you do. You have tried a million times…"

"But…"

"No, seriously, trust me—it will be a huge waste of our lives to attempt this right now."

"Fine," the blonde huffed. "So, then, what do you want me to do?"

"I'm sixteen; I think I can do my own hair."

"Shut up, kid- can't you see I am trying to pamper you over here?"

"Did you just tell me to shut up on my birthday?"

"A little bit," Emma shrugged unapologetically. "Now, tell what can I do to your hair? If I have failed so miserably at curling it—what am I good at?"

"You make a pretty sweet braided headband."

"Alright, I think I can handle that."

The savior ran a brush through Charlotte's hair—but nearly dropped the object altogether when Regina walked into the room. Emma couldn't stop her eyes from traveling up and down the woman's body—she was sporting a red sweater dress and black knee-high boots.

"Is everything going okay in here?" The former-queen inquired.

"Mommy, you look awesome."

"Thank you, love. But I came to ask you what you wanted to wear? I assume you didn't bring any party attire with you?"

"Are you going to use magic?"

"Yes—I can make you anything you want if you just give me some direction."

"A dress," Charlotte considered. "Nothing too fancy—I like simple but cute. I trust you, you have good taste."

"I'll see what I can come up with," Regina replied.

"Thanks."

"Are you okay, Emma?"

"What? Me? I'm fine," she insisted, protesting a little too much. "We're good."

"I'm going to go help Amelia get dressed, then."

"You do—um, you look really great, Regina."

"Thanks—I'm glad to see your curls are back under my advisement."

"You know what they say," she joked, "happy wife, happy life."

Charlotte openly snorted as her brunette mother exited the bathroom.

"What exactly is so amusing?"

"Oh nothing," she laughed, "but I think I have some of your drool in my hair."

"I wasn't drooling."

"Yeah, okay—you weren't—you were just completely speechless."

"Shut up," was her only response—because she knew she had been completely busted.

"Wonder how many times you'll tell me to shut up before my birthday is over?"

Emma smiled to herself as she began to braid the girl's hair.

* * *

Everything had been going perfectly until Regina had somehow ended up alone with Charlotte and Snow in the living room. She didn't know how the hell anyone had let this happen—and she was about ready to lose it completely.

Emma had gone to pick up the food shortly after her parents arrived- David, Henry and Amelia were upstairs wrapping presents. She wished with all of her heart that the insufferable woman would opt to join her husband, but stubborn Snow seemed determined to stay put and ask Charlotte a million questions about what they had done so far to celebrate.

When Regina heard the front door open, she inwardly praised the universe for sending Emma back so quickly. There was just no way she could deal with Snow alone for much longer; there was really only so much she could handle.

"Sorry I'm late."

Regina snapped her head up at the familiar voice, and drank in the sight of the image before her. It took her a moment to process the differences: the different outfit—the shorter hair. This was Emma Swan—but it was certainly not the one who left her house a half hour earlier. She stared, completely dumb-founded as she tried to wrap her mind around what could possibly be happening.

"Oh come on, Regina," the woman continued, when no one in the room responded to her, "I've been waiting my whole life for an excuse to use your line and you don't even laugh at it?"

"Oh my God," Charlotte finally gasped as she jumped up. "_Mom?"_

"Yeah, kid. Do you really think I'd miss your party?"

Regina watched as Charlotte sprinted to this version of Emma and flung herself into her arms. The woman embraced her daughter before spinning her around in circles.

"Happy birthday," Regina heard the woman choke out, certain that the pair was crying. She tried not to get emotional herself, as she observed the pure joy on Charlotte's face.

Simultaneously, she felt Snow White's eyes burning into her—she knew they were having the same realization: that every last word Charlotte had spoken to them was the truth. She felt her heart beating in her ears—and she was completely frozen on the couch.

"I was so worried that you wouldn't be able to get here," she heard Charlotte cry.

"I had a little help from a certain birthday candle," Emma reached into her pocket a pulled out a blue, star-shaped candle.

"The one that brought you to Storybrooke?"

"That's the one."

Regina flashed back to the first day she had met Emma—the savior had been babbling on about how it was her birthday—how she didn't want to be alone—how Henry had showed up.

"Where is mommy?"

"Charlotte," Emma began, still holding the girl close, "look…"

"No," the teenager violently jerked out of her mother's arms, "where is she?"

"I just _time-traveled_ to get here and you still like Regina better? Can I at least get some credit?"

"Mom," Charlotte frantically yelled, "did something happen to her?"

Regina watched the surreal exchange; there were two people standing in the room talking about the whereabouts of some future version of herself. She decided in that moment that if she had died taking on Gold to protect these children she wouldn't be sad—she would be proud- she would be honored.

"Do you really think I would be standing here making jokes if something happened to her? Do you think I would be standing at all? Do you think I would even be _breathing _for that matter?"

"No," Charlotte relaxed. "But why isn't she here, then?"

"Things are taking longer than we thought they would with Gold, that's all. She is completely safe and with your brother and grandparents—we decided one of us needed to come early for your birthday."

"You didn't want to miss my birthday," Charlotte hugged the woman again. "I'm sorry I yelled."

"I know you wish it was her, kid—and I don't think you can even understand how badly she wanted to be here. But you and I both know she's better with magic."

"It's not that I wish it was her. I just wish it was both of you. I missed you so much."

"I missed you more—I'm so sorry for all of this."

"It's fine—you're here now."

"I want to see your sister. Where is my Amelia?"

"She's upstairs—with Henry and Pop."

"Mom," the older version of Emma addressed Snow, "can you go get Amelia? I don't think I can move from this hug."

"Y-you've," an even-paler-than-usual Snow stuttered, "y-you…."

"I know, I know—it's me from the future—it's totally weird but we can't even pretend it's the weirdest thing that's ever happened to us in this town, am I right?"

"No," Mary-Margaret choked out, "you've never called me _mom_ before."

"What are you talking about? Of course I have."

"I promise you, you haven't."

Regina watched as future-Emma's eyes darted to her—and then traveled down to her hand.

"Regina," she addressed her directly, "how come you're not wearing your rings?"

She knew she should answer the question—she knew she should explain everything that had happened since Charlotte and Amelia arrived—but she still couldn't seem to speak.

"Mom," Charlotte stepped in, "don't freak out."

"That is never a good way to start a sentence. What is it?"

"You and mommy aren't _exactly_ married yet."

"Oh—damn—that's so weird—we're engaged, then?"

"Um, no—you're not engaged."

"I must be about to propose?

"Actually, you're not even dating."

"What?" Emma questioned. "How is that even possible? What the hell year is it then?"

"It's 2013," Charlotte explained.

"No, it's not."

"Yes, I swear."

"Shit," Emma muttered. "No—wait—shit—that's not even possible. Does that mean? Is Cora here?"

"No," Charlotte whispered, "she's not."

"Damn—Regina, I'm so sorry."

Regina looked down at her hands- because she didn't know what to do with the sympathetic offering. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Snow fidget uncomfortably.

"It happened a little over a week ago," Charlotte clarified.

"But that's right around when you got here?"

"Yeah, tell me about it—most awkward situation of my life."

"And Regina and my mom are in the same room right now? And they found out from _you_ that I marry Regina? And everyone is still alive?"

"It hasn't been easy, mom."

"Wait, where is current me then?"

"You went to pick up the food—you've been staying here, though."

"Kid, I am so sorry- this is a horrible place for you to be—I don't know how the hell we screwed this up so badly."

"I'm fine—everything is fine now—it all worked out."

"So, Neal is here then?"

"Yup—I saw him the other day."

"And Greg's out of the hospital," Emma reasoned. "Is Tamara here yet?"

"I don't think so- but we haven't really left the house."

"Tamara as in Neal's fiancee?" Snow interjected.

"Yes," she snarled—and Regina took note; she recalled that Charlotte had a similarly disturbing reaction to the name.

"She's not here," the pixie-haired woman told them, "but I heard Henry say Neal was thinking of calling her—apparently he's a little overwhelmed by everything that's going on."

"Jesus," Emma muttered. "Charlotte, your mother is literally going to have a stroke when she realizes that this is where you ended up."

"I know," Charlotte understood. "But are _you _okay?"

"Of course I'm okay—I'm with you. I've spent every second of every day wondering how you guys were. And now I know that you are just fine- and no one is ever going to hurt you."

"But have you and mommy ever even been apart for longer than your work-shift?"

"No," Emma admitted. "And I really miss her. But she's going to be here so soon. And, you know, at least I can stare at her face until then. It could be worse."

"Even though everything is so weird- this past-version of mommy is really cool. She's been so good to me."

"Yeah, kid, I don't need you to tell me that. _This_ is the Regina I fell in love with."

Regina's head jerked up and met the woman's eyes. What frightened her the most was _not_ that this version of her life was real—what frightened her- what shook her to her core—was that she seemed to be _relieved_ that it was all true. This wasn't a joke, it wasn't a prank, it wasn't a trick. Charlotte and Amelia were hers.

And Emma Swan was hers.

She knew it from the way the older, blonde-haired woman was looking at her like she would jump in front of a bus for her; like she wanted to throw her against the nearest wall and kiss her.

Regina still couldn't speak. She could barely breathe.

All she could do was hope _her_ version of Emma would get here- so that she could believe, too.


	10. Sweet 16 (Part Two)

**Hello, my beautiful SwanQueen-ers. Thank you for your FABULOUS reviews and for hanging in there while I was away this week. I am so grateful that you're reading this story and I am ecstatic to have made it to 10 chapters! Tonight, you are rewarded for your patience ;) Please, enjoy! **

* * *

_Regina sits on her couch with her blanket adorned around her shoulders as she stares blankly into the space in front of her. _

_She is supposed to be in bed, on direct orders from her son. _

_Apparently, Henry won't sleep if she won't sleep and Henry won't eat if she won't eat. And everyone, especially him, knows she would never let him go without food or rest. _

_Frankly, she isn't amused by the blatant manipulation or the fact that she is being treated like a child. But she isn't quite angry, either. Besides, she knows exactly where the instructions came from. She knows damn well Emma signed off on this fool-proof strategy. _

_And Emma's voice in the back of her head is part of why she walks right into the manipulation without complaint—part of why it works so well. In the twelve hours since her wife left, Regina has managed to keep down two whole meals. She also begrudgingly agreed to give up working at a much earlier hour than she would've liked. _

_Indeed, when the clock struck midnight Henry walked her up the staircase and watched as she got into bed. Once she did, he pulled the blanket over her, turned off her light, and kissed her on forehead. "No work until morning," he firmly instructed before he left the room. _

_Unfortunately, it took mere seconds for all the thoughts she didn't want to think to start creeping into her head. It didn't take her long at all to realize it had been years since she slept alone—since she didn't have blonde curls on the pillow next to her—since the house had been this quiet. _

_Ten seemingly-never-ending minutes after she heard Henry's own bedroom door close, Regina ripped the blanket off her bed, wrapped it around her body, and migrated back downstairs. _

_Now, as she sits by herself in the living room, she is more than comfortable with her decision. She will allow her family to prevent her from working through the night. But she simply cannot be in that room without Emma. It is too painful; it is too much to ask of her. _

"_I thought you were supposed to be sleeping?" She hears a voice speak from behind her. It startles her at first, because she did not hear David approaching. _

"_I'm not working," she defends, as she turns around to her meet her father-in-law's concerned glance. "I thought that was good enough." _

"_Probably not for Henry—but I guess I'll take it." _

_She merely nods appreciatively in his direction as he takes the seat next to her on the couch. He observes her attire—Emma's sweatpants and sweatshirt—an outfit the brunette doesn't normally wear. _

"_Do those clothes_ _still smell like her?" _

"_Yes," she admits, almost embarrassed. A part of her realizes just how ridiculous it is—that Emma has not even been gone a full day and she is behaving like a love-sick teenager. _

"_That's good." _

"_You don't have to hang out with me to make sure I'm okay," she tells him. "I know Emma told you to, but I'm fine."_

"_Emma told me to kill anyone who tries to hurt you, she never said anything about hanging out with you—that was my idea. And I'm not trying to supervise you, I couldn't sleep either." _

"_Very well then." _

"_Are you just going to sit here in the dark until Henry allows you to go back to work?" _

"_That was the plan, yes." _

"_It's not a very good one." _

"_No, probably not. But I….I can't be in that bed without her. And I'm trying to keep my promise to my son without going completely insane. I'm… I'm trying my very best." _

"_I know you are, Regina—you always do." _

_There was a time she would've taken the remark as condescending—but she knows he means it in the most encouraging way possible. _

"_How did you do it?" She asks. "How did you spend so much time apart from the woman you love?"_

_He seems stunned by the question—as if he forgot that he can relate to Regina's situation better than most. "I don't know," he considers. "It was agonizing—but the agonizing pain was better than the only other alternative."_

"_The alternative?" _

"_Giving up," he clarifies. "I always knew that wherever Snow was, she wasn't going to give up on us. I guess I held on to the belief that it would all be worth it—and that it was for a larger purpose. Turns out, I wasn't too far off with that one." _

_She knows to what he is referring, of course. It's their family story—that all the pain, the suffering, the heartache—that it was all worth it—because they are together now. Because there is forgiveness and trust and love under their roof. Because Henry and Charlotte and Amelia exist and make them all better people. _

"_Do you want me to go?" He questions, when she says nothing in response. He is unsure if he should take her silence as a sign that she would rather be alone. _

_There was a time when he truly hated Regina Mills—when he had it in him to kill her with his own two hands. Even then, at the height of their most violent conflict, his wife insisted that there was good in the Queen. _

_Admittedly, he hadn't believed it. After all, he had only witnessed the pain she was capable of causing. He wasn't there when she saved Snow—he never saw the light his wife always claimed was somewhere behind her eyes. Personally, he didn't care too look too hard for it—he was more concerned with protecting the love of his life from the naive belief that people could change-or change back, in this case. _

_He spent such a long time convinced that there was no softer side to Regina. _

_Until the night the moon hung over the Jolly Roger and he watched the supposedly evil woman smile at his daughter as if she was the only person who existed in the entire universe. _

_Now, as he looks at the woman's petite frame huddled under a blanket, he can hardly remember what it was like when he didn't know this softer side of her. _

"_No," she whispers, "I didn't mean you should leave." _

"_Well, then…what if instead of staring into space we stare at a movie?" _

"_Alright." _

_He picks up the remote and points it at the television. _

_Regina settles into the couch—she drinks in the smell of Emma that still lingers on the clothes and on the blanket; she prays her father-in-law picks a movie dull enough to sing her to sleep._

* * *

An awkward silence filled the air as Regina and Snow stared at the still-startling sight of a future-version of Emma Swan hugging Charlotte tighter than seemed humanly possible.

Their attention quickly turned to the doorway, however, as they heard the sound of footsteps from the hall. When Regina realized that Amelia, Henry and David were about to enter the room, her eyesight locked on the blonde standing a few feet away from her.

"_Amelia_," Emma gasped as she instantly ran up to her younger daughter and hoisted her up into her arms.

"What are you doing?" The child whined at the unexpected contact.

"I missed you so, so much," Emma exclaimed as she planted kisses all over Amelia's face.

"But you only just left."

"Right," she looked to Charlotte who gave her mom a small, affirmative nod. The older version of the savior caught on quickly to the fact that Amelia didn't know she was anywhere but in her own home. "I know-but, um, I still missed you, alright?"

"How come your hair is short again?"

"She cut it for my party," Charlotte jumped in with an explanation. "Doesn't it look pretty?"

"Yes," Amelia agreed. "But where's the food?"

"She was going to pick up the food," Charlotte continued, "But, uh, she got distracted and got her haircut instead."

Regina held her breath as she waited for Amelia to call her sister's bluff. But, instead, the girl let out an adorable giggle. "That's silly," she told her mom.

Regina saw it clearly—that when Amelia laughed, Emma's eyes filled with tears. As if the laughter was confirmation that her daughter was perfectly happy and healthy—that she hadn't been scarred by the separation—that in the most basic sense, the plan had worked.

"I know," Emma grinned. "I'm a silly person, huh?"

"Yes."

"I love you so much, Amelia," Emma spoke—while managing to hold back the tears Regina could tell she wanted more than anything to let out. "Do you know that?"

"I love you, too—but put me down already; I have to go set the table!"

"You're such a good baby," she said as she reluctantly put Amelia down. "Thank you for helping with your sister's birthday."

"I'm not a baby," the child shouted as she walked past them. She grabbed Snow's hand and dragged her grandmother along with her. "Nana come help me decorate."

"She's totally good, Mom," Charlotte promised, when she was sure her sister was in the kitchen. "She didn't even realize."

"You took care of her, Charlotte—that's all on you. I can't even begin to thank you for that."

Before the teenager could say another word, Henry took a step closer to the future-Emma. "Is it really you?"

"Henry," she whispered, as she lovingly placed her hand on his cheek. "I completely forgot what it's like for you to be shorter than me."

"Emma? Are you sure it's you? The same you?"

"Yup," she playfully looked down at her own body, "I'm pretty sure I'm me."

It was startling to Regina, what a mom the woman standing in front of her was. She knew that her present-Emma loved Henry with all of her heart—but she was still learning how to be a mother. This Emma Swan was, undoubtedly, an experienced mother: her voice—her mannerisms—her instincts.

"Are you okay?" Henry frantically inquired. "Are you cursed?"

"Cursed?" Emma laughed at the question. "Nope, sorry—I think the rule is you only get to be right about one curse per lifetime, kid."

"You sound like Emma," he admitted, as his eyes traveled up and down her body as if he was checking her for evidence. "You look like Emma."

"Well, that's good—it would be pretty weird if I sounded or looked like someone else. You're the conspiracy theorist in the family, Henry, I thought you'd be more into the time-travel idea."

"But…"

"Oh, wait, I get it," she suddenly realized, "the whole me and your mom thing is totally freaking you out, right?"

He nodded, solidifying her suspicion.

"Yeah, you were a damn hard sell at first-but you came around, eventually."

"You're really married?"

"I really am," she confirmed as she offered him her left hand. He took it in his own and ran his fingers over her ring. "See—I've even got the wedding band to prove it."

Henry stepped back, seemingly satisfied by the proof. But before Emma could pull back her hand, David stepped forward, grabbed onto her wrist and stared her directly in the eyes.

"Hi, Dad," she greeted him with a goofy smile, unfazed by his contact. "I take it you're not on board yet, either?"

He momentarily flinched at the paternal name he was not use to hearing. But he quickly shook it off. "Why would I be? This is….it's unreal."

"Look, I'm sorry—this clearly isn't the best time or place for you to find all of this out—but you don't understand—which isn't even your fault because you _can't_ understand yet. I know things are, like, really horrible now—but everything is going to get better."

"How could you falling in love with her make anything better? Of all the people in the entire universe? _Regina_? You could have anyone you wanted—in this world or back home. And it had to be Regina Mills?"

Regina watched as Emma frowned and pulled her wrist out from her father's grasp—she walked back over to Charlotte and put her arm around her daughter's shoulder. "Um, it was an accident?" She casually offered.

"It's not funny," he told her. "This is the Evil Queen were talking about."

"God almighty," she outwardly cringed, "it's been a very long time since I heard something so ridiculous said about my wife—especially from you."

"This is exactly what it's been like all week," Charlotte turned to her. "They're seriously so mean to her."

"I'm the mean one? She has tried to kill _my_ wife on multiple occasions."

"Yeah," Emma shrugged back at him, "well, now, you're jogging buddies."

"Jogging buddies?" David questioned as he rolled his eyes.

"You guys run together all the time. And, spoiler alert, she usually beats you—I think she only lost to you when she was pregnant."

"You know what?" David gave in. "I promised Snow I wouldn't do this on Charlotte's birthday. So, I'm going to help decorate and give the happy couple some time alone."

As Charming stormed out, Henry looked at the people remaining in the room. Regina could tell that he felt out of place and she wasn't surprised when he spoke up. "I think I'll go help them, too."

"Sure, kid," Emma nodded at him before he nearly sprinted away from the scene.

"I kept trying to tell them," Charlotte said, when he was gone. "They don't know anything. And there was so much I wanted to tell them but you told me not to so I couldn't even defend her."

"It's not your fault, alright? And I'm so sorry you had to see all of this ugliness. But I'm not here to deal with this nonsense that's literally in the past—I'm here to celebrate your birthday—so that's what we're going to do. Now sit down, because I have a whole bunch of cards for you, okay?"

Charlotte excitedly followed instructions and sat down on the couch. Regina watched as Emma emptied the contents of her bag; about a dozen envelopes fell out onto the coffee table. Charlotte rummaged through them, deciding carefully where she wanted to start. Simultaneously, Regina felt Emma invade the space next to her. The blonde snaked her hand around her hip, as if it was where she naturally belonged. Regina flinched at the intimate touch—and Emma quickly realized her mistake and mouthed _"sorry," _before taking a step back.

"Where is it?" Charlotte looked up at her mom, oblivious to the uncomfortable moment that had just occurred.

"The one you're looking for is in the yellow envelope. And she said to tell you that you'll have to get your present in a few days. It's kind of big—so I couldn't really bring it here. Plus, I know she wants to see the look on your face when you open it."

"I don't care about my present," the teenager insisted as she ripped open the envelope. "I just want to…"

Regina couldn't make out the words written on the card, but she immediately recognized her own handwriting. Her stomach turned upside down at the sight of relief on Charlotte's face.

"Mommy," the girl cried as she ran her fingertips over the writing.

"Regina," Emma looked directly at her, "our daughter needs you."

"But I'm not…" Regina began—because she knew that no matter how hard she tried, she wasn't the person that anyone one in this room wanted. She wasn't the version of herself they loved—the version of herself that Charlotte ached for.

"I know," Emma understood, sympathy apparent in her voice, "but it doesn't matter right now."

Regina sat down next to Charlotte and brought her into a hug. She wasn't the Mommy that her daughter needed, but that didn't mean she wouldn't keep trying.

* * *

Emma strolled down the streets of Storybrooke carrying two plastic bags filled to the top with food from Granny's diner. They had finally settled on Granny's as the food choice after Regina had changed her mind approximately fifteen times. First, the brunette had dramatically declared that homemade lasagna wasn't a good idea—she was certain Charlotte must have grown up on her infamous dish. _"It's not special enough, Emma," _she insisted._ "She probably eats it every week." _ She then proceeded to reject every alternative idea Emma offered.

When they finally caved and asked Amelia what she thought Charlotte would want for her party, the younger child seemed more than confident that her sister would want her favorite meal: mac and cheese from the diner.

Regina resisted at first, appalled by the notion that they would serve diner food at a birthday party. But eventually, after realizing she didn't actually have a better idea, she resigned to the concept.

Emma had opted to walk to pick up the food, because it had been way too long since she had felt the fresh air. It wasn't that she could complain about being on house arrest at the mansion, but she felt like she hadn't seen the sunshine in days.

She only wished she had been properly prepared to be inundated with questions about her health at the diner. Apparently, her parents had been telling people she had the flu. She should've figured they had come up with a creative excuse to explain why she hadn't been at work, or anywhere, for the past week and a half. She was sure Ruby suspected something was off when Emma fumbled through a lie about the antibiotics she was supposedly on.

But as she turned the corner and walked up the path to 108 Mifflin, she didn't care about any of that. It had been a while, she realized, since she had genuinely looked forward to something. And she was looking forward to this dinner—to time with Charlotte, Amelia, Henry, her parents—perhaps, most of all, she was looking forward to time with a certain former-queen.

She excitedly opened the door to the mansion. But she did not get more than a foot into the foyer before she was face-to-face with an out-of-breath, and clearly uneasy, Regina.

"Upstairs," the brunette nearly shouted at her.

"Huh?"

"You have to go upstairs."

"Um," she questioned, baffled at the odd behavior, "why?"

"Emma, please."

It was more than a little disturbing—because she hadn't seen Regina so worked up since the day she had come barging into Gold's shop with Cora by her side and a fireball in her hand.

"I left you alone with my parents and now you're all weird and don't want me to go inside?"

"Do you think I killed them in the middle of Charlotte's birthday party?" She angrily snapped, obviously insulted. "Happy birthday, sweetheart—now please help me throw these bodies off the docks?"

"No, of course not," Emma promised. "But something is obviously going on."

"I just need you to trust me on this one."

"I trust you."

"Then get the hell upstairs already."

"No, I'm not going to just walk away from you when you look like you're about to pass out," she said. "Now can you please just tell me _why_?"

Before Regina could speak another word or offer an honest explanation, Emma felt a third presence enter the room.

"Because of me," she heard a voice speak. "Well, _you,_ if we want to be technical about it."

Emma looked straight ahead—and was met with the surreal sight of _herself. _ The woman looked different, older, wiser—but there was no mistaking it; it was as if someone had set a mirror down in front of her.

"What the hell is….." She trailed off, unable to even complete the perplexed thought—she felt her body begin to shake and the grip on the bags she was holding loosen completely. Regina saw it coming—and managed to catch the food before it smashed onto the floor.

"Amelia," Regina looked up at her with desperation—but she didn't understand.

"What?"

"Amelia can't see us both," the older version of her explained. The sound of her own voice coming from across the room was certainly the most bizarre thing she had ever experienced.

"Go up to my room," Regina told her. "I'll be up there in a little while, okay?"

"Okay," was the only word she could speak in response.

In her lifetime she had fought criminals, dragons, ogres and pirates—she climbed a beanstalk—she almost had her heart ripped out of her chest—but nothing else in the last twenty-eight years was as frightening as seeing her future standing right in front of her.

Shell-shocked, she made her way up the stairs. She was too afraid to look back.

* * *

Emma had spent close to a half hour hyperventilating on Regina's bed when the door finally opened and the brunette walked in as she had promised.

"What are you doing up here?" The savior sarcastically asked, as she observed Regina holding a plate filled with a burger and fries. "Shouldn't you be downstairs celebrating with Emma 2.0?"

"I thought you at least deserved some of the food you went to pick up."

"Bringing me a plate of food," she accepted the gesture. "I see you are taking your wifely duties very seriously already."

It was all she could think to do, really—to joke and make light of the situation.

"How are you?" Regina pressed, seeing through the act. "Are you alright?"

"I'm upstairs and downstairs," she spoke the statement out loud. "I'm on both floors of this house—so, you know, there's _that_ situation."

"I know."

"That's like really, seriously, me. I'm just walking around downstairs hanging out at my daughter's sweet sixteen."

"I'm sorry you have to stay up here—you planned this day as much as I did."

"Should I…I don't know? Should I just go home?"

"I guess you could if you'd like to," Regina considered. "But, please…don't—I can't….I can't handle this alone. I mean, the way she—you—whatever-looks at me…I'm not her wife but she wants me to be. And your parents are in my house…and Henry…and I just_ can't_."

"I'll stay," she decided. Oddly enough, she took comfort in the fact that Regina was clearly as freaked out as she was. She could ground herself in the notion that she was needed—she could focus on that fact- and that fact alone.

"I don't think I can even begin to explain how happy Charlotte was to see you," Regina told her, as she sat down on the bed.

"Hey—wait a second- how come future Regina isn't here, too? You're okay, right? Like nothing happened to you in the future, did it?"

"No, apparently the Gold situation isn't fully resolved. I'm supposed to show up in a few days to take everyone home."

"So I'm…_that_ version of me… is just going to be hanging out here now, too? For a few days?"

"I believe so, yes."

"It's all true, isn't it? I mean, like, you and I….we're going to get married and have babies."

Regina didn't respond—and Emma looked down at the plate of food sitting in her lap. Suddenly, the still-warm burger was calling out to her—and she shoved a huge bite into her mouth.

"Really, Emma, we're going to have to work on your manners. It's a miracle future you isn't obese."

"I know, right?" She agreed, grateful Regina brought them back to light banter. "From the quick glance I got, I don't look half bad for my age."

"You look the same. Now I understand how we so easily confused Amelia."

"I'm sure you look the same, too."

"I was the one who gave birth twice—so, you never know. I could've let myself go completely."

"Unlikely, Queen-of-all-that-is-perfection," Emma scoffed at the notion. "Hey, do you think my last name is Mills now?"

"I doubt that—your father is quite literally having an aneurysm trying to wrap his mind around the fact that I infiltrate his perfect family. I imagine that you announcing you're becoming a Mills wouldn't go over too big with him."

Emma was suddenly flooded with a thousand questions. She wanted to know how they started dating, how they dealt with the Henry factor, what the rest of the town made of their union, and how the hell she broke the news to her parents that she was having sex with one of their least favorite people on the planet.

"Yeah," she said, as pushed the thoughts out of her mind, "but somehow I can't picture you changing your name."

"I wouldn't mind getting rid of Mills," Regina solemnly confessed. "And at least your last name isn't Charming; Swan is neutral, I suppose."

"But Henry's last name is Mills," she refuted. "I wouldn't want to take that away from him."

"Well," the brunette smiled at her, clearly pleased with the explanation. "Then maybe we combine them."

"Mills-Swan or Swan-Mills?"

"I don't know, dear," the brunette chuckled. "But I can only imagine the scene our wedding will cause."

"Personally," Emma teased, "I hope we get married in a huge castle in the middle of the damn fairy-tale forest and little talking birds do my hair and I float down the aisle on one of those unicorns you told me are real."

Regina burst out into a delirious, heart-felt laughter at the ridiculous proposal. And seconds later, Emma joined her.

"My life is positively insane," the blonde said. "Have I mentioned that today?"

"_Your life?"_ Regina mocked. "I marry the daughter of my worst enemy and we live happily ever after with three gorgeous kids. What the hell kind of villain am I?"

"Wait" Emma grabbed her arm as she continued to joke. "Can you picture Mary-Margaret walking me down the aisle and stopping to throw up half way?"

The mental image caused Regina to laugh even harder—and the two women nearly fell off the bed from their hysteria. Emma had to hold on to her plate, certain Regina would kill her if food ended up on the bedspread.

When the fits of laughter finally subsided—they both wiped the tears out of their eyes.

"Okay," the queen took a deep breath. "Well, my abs are sore now."

"Do you want some of my French fries?" Emma offered. "They're even better than usual today."

"Sure; why not?"

They sat in a comfortable silence munching on the fries until Emma looked up and realized Regina had a small glob of ketchup stubbornly sitting above her lip.

"Regina," she began.

"What is it, dear?"

Emma stared at the woman she would one day call her wife and concluded she was positively adorable. She scolded herself for not seeing it all along—that behind the intimidating mayor was a gorgeous, surprisingly down-to-earth, woman who just wanted a place to belong.

The savior decided that she wanted nothing in the world more than for this woman to know how beautiful she was. So she leaned in—gently licked the condiment off the brunette's upper lip, and then kissed her. It was quick, gentle, and a little unsteady.

"Sorry," she said, when they pulled apart; she was certain she had made a horribly embarrassing mistake. "You had ketchup and…"

"That's alright."

"And, maybe….maybe I just wanted to see what we are working with till death do us part, you know?"

"Again," Regina choked out.

"What?" she asked, positive she hadn't heard correctly.

"Do it again."

The request was as clear as day—and Emma wasn't going to deny it. So she leaned in once again—and this time, with more confidence, she eagerly parted the queen's lips with her tongue. She felt Regina deepen their contract as they leaned into each other. She couldn't stop herself from placing her hands on the woman's face as she felt the warmth of their breath mixing together.

When they pulled apart for the second time, Regina audibly gasped.

"What's wrong? Did I screw up?"

"No, you kiss me like you care about me—like you care about what happens to me."

"What are you talking about? I _do_ care about you—of course I do."

"Because you were told you do," the queen pessimistically decided. "Or that you will."

"No, that's not why" she insisted. "I, mean, seriously have you ever known me to do something just because I'm_ told _too?"

"No, I suppose I haven't."

"Uh," Emma continued, unsure how to ask what was on her mind, "potentially strange question—but are your lips like extremely tingly in the best way possible right now?"

"Yes—I think….I think it's magic," Regina brought her fingers to her lips. "That's what it feels like."

"Is that what happens whenever someone kisses you?"

"No-that's never happened in my entire life."

And the realization hung heavy in the air between them—that the magic of true love was supposedly why they were able to have Charlotte and Amelia in the first place. The very magic that brought their daughters into the world was already present between them.

A knock on the door saved them from having to further explore the topic.

"Who is it?" Regina called out.

"It's me," they heard Henry answer.

"Come in, dear."

"Mom," their son sheepishly walked into the room, looking slightly overwhelmed and flustered. "Amelia is starting to ask questions about where you are."

"Alright, sweetheart, I'll come back down."

Emma noticed that he was avoiding looking directly at her—and she had a pretty good guess as to why. "Did you meet future me, kid?"

"Yes," he told her. "She showed me your wedding ring."

"Do I still seem cool, at least?"

"Yeah, she's just like you except she seems a lot happier—and a little less angry."

Until that moment, Emma hadn't realized that Henry saw it, too—that she was resentful towards the whole world. She felt guilty about it—she hadn't meant for him to pick up on it.

"Henry," Regina began, "would you mind keeping your mom company up here for a little bit while I go back to the party? I don't think it's fair for her to be stuck up here by herself."

"Sure," he agreed. "It's really stressful being around Amelia, anyway. I'm afraid I'm going to slip up and ruin everything."

"You won't ruin anything," she assured him. "I'm sorry, dear—this is a lot to handle."

"You better bring me a piece of the cake we made," Emma said. "I worked really hard on that frosting."

"Of course, I will—I'll come back up with it as soon as I can."

Regina bent down and kissed Henry on the cheek. She faltered for a minute, but then did the same to Emma before she walked out of the room.

"She called you my_ mom_," Henry observed. "She's never done that before.'

"Yeah—you're right."

"And she kissed you on the cheek?"

"Well, in fairness, I think that part was a little bit my fault."

"What do you mean?"

"I, uh, sort of kissed her first—on the lips—like a few minutes ago."

"That sounds like _a lot_ your fault," he furrowed his brow at her. "You kissed my mom on the lips?!"

"She had ketchup on her face—it was the only polite thing to do."

"It's starting, isn't it? You two falling in love?"

"Yeah, kid, I think it might be."


	11. Next

**Thank you all for your patience :) I never expected moving to be as stressful as it has been but I've enjoyed writing pieces of this fic on the road and as often as I possibly can. **

**I really hope you like this chapter...the story is obviously taking a new turn now that future Emma is around. Also, please yell at me if you're confused about which Emma is in the scene- but I think I was clear about it. **

**Finally: Trigger warning for this chapter because child abuse is discussed. **

* * *

_Regina is seated at the head of her kitchen table looking entirely in her element for the first time in days. Early that morning, she completed the last necessary spell; just as she predicted, the second was far less complicated than the first. _

_Now that she is done, Henry, Snow and David are sitting with her—they are ready to go over the plan from start to finish—to iron out any potential problems—to discuss it all one last time before it is implemented._

_She is feeling like the leader of this family—the one they all turn to. She feels like she is finally in control of this out-of-control situation. And she knows she is more than capable of leading them through this; just as long as she can stop herself from staring at Emma's empty chair. _

_Leaders need to be focused—and she will hone all of her energy until the job is done. _

_"You two," she begins with her in-laws, "this afternoon you will go through the portal back to Fairytale Land and prepare Gold's former cell. Have you contacted the blue-fairy?" _

_"Yes," David replies. "But I think I'll go myself and Snow will stay here." _

_"That wasn't the plan," she fiercely objects. _

_"The plan changed because Ma isn't here," Henry reasons. "It's different now." _

_"She told us not to let anything happen to you," Snow speaks up. "And we're not going to." _

_"As if you could protect me from the Dark One," Regina rebuts; because Snow might be tough and strong—but she doesn't have magic—and magic is a necessity when it comes to taking on Gold. "If I die at his hand, I can assure you that he killed you first." _

_"Mom, please don't say things like that. No one here is dying." _

_"Your point is well-taken, Regina," Snow remains unfazed by the suggestion. "But I'm not putting myself in a position to have to explain to my daughter why we left you completely alone. If David and I both go back to Fairytale Land, you'll be in the house by yourself tonight. Henry has to stay in his apartment so Gold doesn't get suspicious."_

_"It's been quite a while since you two idiots lost each other," Regina quips—though the word 'idiot' has somehow become a term of endearment in this household. "Do you really want to risk separating?"_

_"It's not like it was then," David answers. _

_And, yes, they have a much better handle on traveling between worlds these days—frankly, it's rather easy and straightforward now that have such a large supply of magical beans. _

_And yes, it is highly unlikely that Snow White and Prince Charming will ever lose each other again like they have in the past. _

_Regina understands that the real danger is in Storybrooke and that the Charmings cannot be fooled into thinking otherwise. She reminds herself of the promise she made to Emma: that she would allow them to take care of her. _

_"If that's what you have decided you are most comfortable with," she concludes, "I'm not going to argue about it any further." _

"_We have decided," Snow confirms the verdict. _

"_So," she nods as she continues, "David will go, by himself, to re-enchant Rumple's former-cell."_

_"What, exactly, do I do when I get there?" The prince asks. _

_"It's simple," she says as she hands him a bottle of liquid. "This is the first spell I made—you merely need to stand in the doorway of the cell and release it. Just be careful not to lock yourself in—that would be a surefire way to never 'find each' other again. That's why I think it's best to have Blue with you, since I won't be there to answer any questions that might come up." _

_"Okay—I can handle that." _

_"Henry," Regina turns to her son. "All you have to do is get Gold to your apartment. Does he still seem willing to accompany you to New York?"_

_"Yeah, Neal even called him the other day to ask if he was definitely coming. I think that really made the whole thing more believable. I told Gold I'd pick him up at noon, we'd stop by the apartment to grab lunch and then leave for New York from there."_

_"That's perfect, dear. Snow and I will set everything up at the apartment tomorrow morning. The second spell will incapacitate him long enough for us to get him through the portal and lock him away for good. The second he walks into your apartment, he'll inhale the magic and, essentially, pass out."_

"_This is the part that makes me nervous," Snow admits. "What if he wakes up?" _

"_He won't," she exudes confidence. "He's the one who taught my mother this particular spell in the first place. And, let's just say, she used it on me on more than one occasion. Once he breaths in this sort of magic, he will be out for hours—even the Dark One can't overcome that level of unconsciousness." _

"_So he'll just wake up in the cell, then, Mom?" _

"_Yes, Henry—and believe me, if there was any other way at all to protect your sisters…" she trails off, and is as sympathetic as she can be to her son's awkward position. "I'm sorry that this is how it has to be with your grandfather."_

_"I stopped thinking of Gold as family a long time ago."_

_She grabs his hand from across the table and gives him a reassuring and grateful squeeze. _

"_Once he's locked up," David looks to her, "we can all come back through the portal together, yes?" _

"_Correct—and then I will leave immediately to go get the girls and Emma."_

"_My dad_ _said he might want to come through the portal at some point so that he can be there when Gold wakes up—he said he wants to make it clear he was in full support of all of this." _

"_That's perfectly fine, dear. Your father knows his way around portals well enough to travel on his own, I take it?" _

"_Of course," Henry assures her. _

"_Is everyone is in agreement, then? About all of this?"_

_Regina receives three simultaneous nods in reply._

_Maybe she should be nervous, she realizes. But she can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins now and nerves no longer seem to be a factor. Because she can finally see the light at the end of this horrible tunnel. _

_Suddenly, thoughts of her mother creep into her mind. It's not surprising, she tells herself. After all, that's exactly how far back Gold's involvement in her family goes. _

_It stops here. _

_It ends tonight. _

_She got her happy ending, in spite of him. _

_And losing to him? Well, that's no longer an option._

* * *

Regina sat on her bed as she listened to the older version of Emma Swan speak to her from the bathroom. The blonde hadn't stopped talking since Regina brought her upstairs, upon her request, to wash up for the night.

To be honest, Regina wasn't sure if she managed to say anything at all in reply in the last half-hour. It was abundantly clear to her that _this_ Emma Swan was talking to her as if she were, in fact, her actual wife.

And the former-queen quickly found it was a lot easier to pretend to be Charlotte and Amelia's mother than it was pretend to be this woman's long-time spouse.

"It's not like we haven't been apart from our kids before or anything," Emma ranted, as the water ran from the sink. "I mean, Charlotte was at camp for almost the entire summer two years ago. But sending your children through time is a new definition of the word frightening."

"Yes, I would imagine so," she managed to get a few words in.

"And all because goddamn Rumpelstiltskin cannot give up ruining everyone's lives for more than five minutes. I mean, we all tried with him. Neal gave him so many chances; what a huge waste of time _that_ was."

"Gold is very set in his ways."

"We should've sent him back to the damn enchanted forest ages ago and guarded the portal with like man-eating lions or something."

Emma emerged from the bathroom with her face washed completely clean of make-up. Her curly, shoulder-length, locks were tied up in a pony-tale; she stood in a black tank-top and a pair of black underwear that Regina recognized just a little too well.

"Is that?" She struggled to get the question out as she openly stared. "Are you wearing _my_ underwear?"

"Yeah," Emma casually answered her, "I am."

"And why would you be doing that?"

"Oh," the savior replied, as though she only just realized the action might require further explanation. "I didn't really pack a lot of stuff because I thought I was coming to a house I already lived in. I thought I could, you know, borrow clothes from myself."

"How did you even get them without me noticing? It would've been nice if you asked. This is highly..."

"What?" Emma lovingly mocked. "Inappropriate?"

"Yes, precisely."

When she merely laughed in response, Regina was no longer amused by her care-free attitude. "What, exactly, is so funny?"

"It's just that you sound so robotic, _Madame Mayor_. And, besides, I've seen two kids come out of you...after that, not much is 'inappropriate.'"

"I am _not_ your wife," the brunette frowned. "You need to stop treating me like I am."

"I know you're not, technically. But you still are, you know? Like, your face is."

"I see you are just as well-spoken as always."

"Here's the thing," Emma chuckled at the insult, "like it or not, when I look at you I see the woman I marry. I love and care about _all_ the versions of you that ever did, do or will exist in time."

_I care about you_, echoed through Regina's mind. It was the very same phrase that the younger-version of Emma had used after they kissed. "This is too much," she said out loud.

"Maybe for now we can just agree that it would be _more '_inappropriate' for me to go commando for the rest of the night than it would be for me to simply borrow this pair of underwear?"

"Fine," Regina gave in—more so because she wanted the subject dropped than because she actually agreed with the rationalization.

"Uh, are you going to totally freak out if I borrow pajamas, too?"

"No; and I didn't 'freak out'—I was merely caught off-guard, that's all."

"Great," Emma proceeded to open up Regina's dresser and pull out a pair of pajamas. "These will work."

Moments later, the savior made her way over to the bed, picked up her back-pack, and emptied out the contents onto the bedspread.

"Don't worry about the mess, then, dear," Regina sassed as she watched.

"I think you packed my toothbrush for me—oh, yup, there it is."

She was about to protest that she certainly did not pack anything for this woman. But it was too late: Emma was already back in the bathroom.

Regina then noticed a cell phone sitting amongst the mess on her bed. She picked the item up and was surprised to find the power was still on.

If Emma could borrow her underwear, she told herself, there probably wasn't anything wrong with simply looking at device. She quickly opened the icon labeled "inbox" and didn't have to look very far to find her own name; she clicked and began to scroll though their conversations.

_January 23__rd__, 9:08 AM: _

**Emma: How was your run?**

**Regina: David asked if they could give Charlotte a car for her birthday. So I've had better runs with him, to be honest.**

**Emma: LOL he's insane. Charlotte is not getting a car for her birthday. **

**Regina: Not from your parents, she's not. **

**Emma: Uh is there something you forgot to tell me? Pls say you didn't buy our daughter a car without mentioning it to me first.**

**Regina: I would never do that without telling you. **

**Emma: Is THIS your way of telling me?**

**Regina: We'll talk about it later.**

**Emma: She can have a bike with a bell on it but not a car. She's not confident enough behind the wheel yet.**

**Regina: I have to go to a meeting we'll talk about it later. **

**Emma: I'm really surprised you'd want her to have a car.**

**Regina: I DON'T! But now I need YOU to find out what kind of ideas your parents have been putting in her head. **

**Emma: I will kill them if they even hinted she was getting one. **

**Regina: Me first. But I'm going in now. I love you. **

**Emma: Love you too. I'll call at lunch.**

_January 20__th__, 10:15 AM:_

**Emma: I don't feel good. **

**Regina: That's it. I'm coming to pick you up. **

**Emma: I can't leave.**

**Regina: Says who?**

**Emma: I'm not leaving work bc I have a little cold.**

**Regina: Your nose was bright red this morning it's not a little cold. You should've taken those vitamins I bought for Henry. **

**Emma: Ugh sorry I'm not as good of a patient as Henry, Dr. Regina. **

**Regina: You cannot be trusted to take care of yourself. I just called your father to go into work for you. Be ready to leave in five minutes. **

**Emma: Ok. Fineeee. Thank u. I love you.**

**Regina: I love you too, Rudolph. Just keep your snotty nose away from me. **

_January 18__th__ 3:05 PM_

**Regina: EMMA!**

**Emma: Whatever it is I didn't do it. I don't think?**

**Regina: I am currently having a nervous breakdown.**

**Emma: What? Why?**

**Regina: A COLLEGE BROCHURE JUST CAME FOR CHARLOTTE. **

**Emma: Omg! But I think it's only bc of her insane PSAT scores. **

**Regina: Uh, can I throw it out?**

**Emma: No! We let Henry go to college… Charlotte's eventually going to go too. **

**Regina: How is that helpful right now?**

**Emma: She's not leaving for a long time. So, breathe, mama bear. **

**Regina: I do not want to breathe while this piece of mail is taunting me. **

**Emma: If you're that upset we can work on making a fourth kid ;)**

**Regina: How about you just pick our third up from school? **

**Emma: Two steps ahead of you—she just walked out with the most adorable project.**

**Regina: Good bc I need some adorable Amelia right about now. **

**Emma: See you in ten mins to kiss you and make it better, okay? **

**Regina: 3**

Emma strode back into the bedroom, pulling Regina out of the hypnotizing trance she was in while reading the messages. She looked up and found the blonde, now wearing pajamas, staring back at her.

"I'm sorry," she said immediately, as she tossed the phone down, utterly mortified that she had been caught.

"Why are you sorry?"

"You're not angry?"

"What's mine is yours, Regina—and I mean that pretty damn literally, too."

"I saw my name on your messages and I wanted to..."

"You don't have to explain. Did you read anything interesting?

"That I don't want Charlotte to go to college, apparently."

"Oh, right," Emma recalled. "The funny thing is that when Charlotte opened that brochure she saw it was from a school in New York and said 'that's too far' and tossed it in the trash."

"Well, I assume I was quite relieved then."

"We both were, yeah."

The words wouldn't leave her mind, the '_I love you' _and '_I love you, too.' _All of the co-parenting and the obvious care and concern the two women exchanging messages had for each other. "It all seems so very domestic."

"Yeah, I guess we're a boring married couple—apart from the kids who can do magic."

"I'll put the phone back in your bag," she promised.

"Seriously, it's fine. You can even keep it for now. It doesn't work here, anyway. You can read as far back as you want until it runs out of battery."

"Thank you," she didn't want to admit that she planned to read more- but she was also too curious to deny it.

"Hey," Emma looked at her with sudden concern, "I've been meaning to ask you…how are you doing with everything that happened with your mom?"

"I miss her," she admitted out loud for the first time, surprised at how quickly it came out, "quite a lot."

"Of course you do."

"When Charlotte and Amelia showed up, I was too distracted to think about her…. but now it seems like...it's starting to feel like…"

"Like what?"

"No," she determined, ready to back-peddle away from the dangerous subject matter. "I shouldn't get into this."

"You should—you need to talk to someone about it and I know you're not. You can talk to me."

"I guess," she was hesitant, but the offer seemed so genuine, "it seems like everyone got a second chance except for her. If I get a second chance…she should've gotten one, too."

"Regina," Emma sighed and crossed her arms.

The action made the brunette acutely aware that she said the wrong thing, though she had no clue why. "What?"

"My wife…she has come to terms with the fact that her mother was physically and emotionally abusive. Have _you_?"

The words took her by complete surprise. It wasn't that she hadn't ever considered it—that her relationship with her mother was far from ideal. But, until now, she never heard it verbalized it such a succinct manner. "I, um, suppose."

"You suppose, huh?"

"She thought she was doing the right thing."

"You're still making excuses for her."

"It's not an excuse. If you marry me… then I'm sure people tell you that you make excuses for my behavior, too."

"No—don't start with that; you're not your mother."

"She just wanted what was best for me."

Emma walked closer and closer until she was standing directly in front of her. Before Regina could process what was happening, the blonde grabbed her hand and pushed the sleeve of her sweater-dress up to her elbow. Emma gently turned her arm around and pointed to a five-inch long scar.

"This," the savior said, as she ran her fingertips over the now exposed mark. "This wasn't best for you."

The contact made the wound feel suddenly fresh, as the memories come flooding back to her.

"I told you about that?"

"Yes," the older-blonde nodded as she moved her hand to Regina's shoulder. This time, she put her fingers over a slightly-smaller scar on the queen's collarbone. "You told me about this, too. You told me all of it. "

"Oh," Regina whimpered in reply. No one had known the extent of what had gone on throughout her childhood. Not Daniel, not Snow, not even her father knew, completely, what went on behind closed doors.

"Did you deserve to be hit for being five minutes late for some stupid tea? Or to be knocked unconscious with a spell to make sure you wouldn't run off with Daniel?"

"No," she shuddered at the unwelcome thoughts. "But..."

"That's the thing, Regina. There are no buts in this situation."

"Yes, except..."

"Nice try… 'except' is a fancy 'but.'"

"Can I please just finish my thought?"

"Fine—go ahead."

"She didn't have her heart so she couldn't...she couldn't know that what she was doing to me wasn't love," Regina disputed, still unable to stop herself from defending her mother. "Maybe it would've been different. You should've seen the way she looked at me when I put it back in her chest. It was like everything finally made sense to her."

"Okay, yes," Emma admitted, "we can't know what would've happened once she got her heart back."

"She could've been different if she just was given the chance. But Snow took _that_ away from me like she's taken everything else I've ever cared about."

"How your mother treated you, Regina-I still get so furious when I think about it. But, you're right, the way she died was cruel and unfair to you in so many ways. My mother never forgives herself for what happened. And neither do I."

"You?" Regina was bewildered by the confession. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Emma whispered. "I did nothing to stop it from happening and nothing to help you through it. I did absolutely nothing and I need you to know that I realize now how useless I was. I'm still so angry with myself for not coming to find you the second I knew your mother was back in town, for letting her trick me into thinking you were guilty of killing Archie, for not being there for you when you needed me to be."

Regina watched the woman unravel, unsure she could fully understand the depths of her admission. "I doubt I would've been all that receptive to your help, anyway."

"I know you think that but I don't believe it. You were receptive to my invitation to dinner and then I screwed it all up. And I think I blocked out how much I hate myself for all of it until I saw my stupid, naive face walk in to your house earlier with food."

"You shouldn't…you shouldn't hate yourself," she insisted. "And my mother would've still tried to kill you to get Henry back to me."

"No, it was never about Henry for her. She played you because she wanted the dagger. If you hadn't sided with her to get it, she would've killed you for it, too. I know on some level you get that."

"Perhaps."

"It's okay that you miss her and even that you still love her as long as you know it's not okay how much she hurt you. Even if she didn't have a heart, it doesn't make it alright. Can you _please_ tell me you know that?"

This much more mature and expressive version of Emma was correct—but the words were impossible to get out, so she remained silent.

"Think about it this way, Regina: how would you feel if someone treated Henry the way Cora treated you?"

"I would kill them," she said without hesitating.

"That's how I know you know it's wrong—because you wouldn't tolerate it happening to our kids."

"You're right about that."

"No one is ever going to hurt you like that again," Emma put her hands on Regina's shoulders. "Do you understand me? If there is one thing I can get you to believe while I'm here, I want it to be that."

But Regina saw Emma flinch, briefly, when she finished speaking. As if the savior realized that what she said wasn't entirely true. And then Regina remembered something. "Charlotte said I almost die twice."

"Charlotte has a big mouth and an inability to lie to you," Emma tried, unsuccessfully, to downplay the fear in her eyes. "Normally that works in our favor...but she shouldn't have been talking to you about anything that happens in the future."

"Is that why you were so freaked out about what year it is?"

"I really can't talk about this."

"Are _you _the reason I don't actually die?"

"That's a complicated question to answer; things sort of have to get worse before they get better. But, yeah, I, uh..."

"Save me?"

"Um, you could say my instincts do the first time and our magic does the second time."

"I take it you won't clarify any of that?"

"I'm sorry—I've already said way too much."

"I've lost everything and everyone," Regina pondered out loud, as the new information sunk in. "How could things possibly get any worse?"

"Yeah, trust me, you don't want to know the answer to that. And we really need to talk about something else now."

"The texts that I read before," she allowed the subject to be changed, "you two seem very much in love still."

"We are."

"For some reason, I can accept Charlotte and Amelia but _you_ are a different story."

"And why is that?"

"It's still difficult for me to believe I could ever fall in love again. I don't know how to love very well and..."

"You, like, really do though," Emma interrupted.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm positive."

"That seems very unlikely."

"Truth be told, in the beginning we both sort of suck at it. But we fall too hard for each other to notice how bad we are at relationships. And we figure it out along the way. Personally, I think we've done pretty well so far. You can ask your future-self that question when you come pick me up."

"We must have done pretty well because Charlotte and Amelia are amazing."

"Yeah," Emma smirked, proudly, before she finally sat down on the bed. "They are, aren't they? I really hope they didn't give you too much trouble this week."

"No, they were no trouble at all."

"Thank you for taking care of them in the middle of such a horrible time for you. I'm very grateful that they're safe."

"We didn't mind. I know it sounds strange since I hardly know them—but I feel as though I would do anything to make them happy."

"Now_ that_ sounds like my wife...um, if I give you a hug now, will you jump out of your skin?"

The brunette shook her head and allowed herself to be engulfed in one of the most sincere hugs she had ever received.

* * *

The younger-version of Emma Swan lurked uncomfortably in the hallway of Regina's second floor. According to Mary-Margaret, the former-queen had escorted future-Emma upstairs close to an hour ago.

When she came upstairs to make sure everything was alright—she was not expecting to see, through a tiny crack in the bedroom door, Regina embracing future-Emma so damn close. It was a dreamlike sight—getting such a clear picture of exactly what they looked like together.

"Hey," Charlotte said, as she approached her. The teenager, unknowingly, blocked Emma's view of Regina's room.

"What's up, kid?"

"I'm sorry you had to hide up here during my party."

"Don't worry about it; I totally get it."

"Thank you for planning it, too. I know you helped a lot. And the cake was delicious."

"You're welcome," she said, as she tried to move her head to an angle where she could get her view back. "I'm just happy you had a good time."

Charlotte immediately noticed the strange behavior—along with the fact that Emma seemed completely zoned out. "My head is on fire," the teenager announced.

"I know," Emma replied—entirely unaware of what she was even saying. Charlotte pushed her shoulder as soon as the words left her mouth.

"What the hell was that for?"

"I just said my head was on fire and you said 'I know.' You're not even listening to me."

"Oh—uh, I'm sorry."

"What are you looking at?" The girl asked as she followed Emma's gaze and turned around.

"Your 'mom' with Regina."

"She probably just wants to hang around her because she misses her."

"Well, that sucks for her but it isn't really my problem."

"Why do you sound like you're mad at her?"

"You mean mad at _myself_?"

"Whatever," Charlotte shrugged. "You seem mad at the woman hugging my mommy. Are you like, jealous? Or something?"

"I'm not jealous, I'm intrigued, okay? She is _me_ and she's in there with her hands all over Regina."

"Yeah, it's beyond strange having you both here at the same time."

"Do you think future-me is going to sleep in there tonight?"

"I don't know, why?"

"Well, where am _I_ going to sleep?"

"Do you want to sleep in there? I thought you were only doing that because of Amelia?"

"I didn't say I wanted to sleep in there; I just want to know what I'm supposed to do. Regina told me not to go home but now she's in there being groped by a practical stranger."

"She's not a stranger."

"She is, too!" Emma shrieked—and when she heard it, she knew she sounded like a teenager herself.

"Are you losing it right now?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe."

"You know," Charlotte proposed, "if you _did_ want to sleep in there, I could make that happen."

"How?"

"You have to admit it first."

"Admit what?"

"That it's what you want."

"_She_ already has her own Regina, anyway. Why does she need mine, too?"

"I didn't realize she was 'your' Regina."

"You totally know what I mean, kid."

"I'm not sure I do."

"Fine," she gave in; after all, she had no reason to not trust Charlotte to follow through. "I want to sleep in there, okay? I thought you _weren't_ trying to parent-trap us."

"I'm not—I just know how happy you make each other and you both seem really sad. You don't have to be sad or alone."

"Look, right now, all I want is to be able to talk to Regina without having to stare at an older version of myself."

"I only need five minutes to make that happen," the girl promised as she began to walk away. "I'll be right back."

"Wait," Emma pulled her back. "Please don't tell either one of them."

"Give me a little more credit than that. I'm your daughter, after all—I can be smooth when I need to be."

"The fact that you're my kid is exactly why I doubt that you're anywhere near smooth. Can you just tell me your plan?"

"Since you were honest with me….the truth is…I kind of want my mom to sleep in my room tonight, anyway. I've been having nightmares about Gold."

"You have? You should've told us."

"Just the last few nights—and they're not that bad, or anything. But I still…now that she's here, I just want her with me."

Emma nodded as she tried to fight the feeling of not being good enough—or of being good-enough until something _better_ came along. Like the foster-families who took her in until they could have kids of their own. It was absurd, she realized—since the person she was being replaced by was actually still her.

"Besides," Charlotte continued, "if you sleep in there, I know you'll take care of mommy and, that way, we can all win."

"Alright, kid-make it happen."

* * *

Emma hid out in Henry's room until she heard two sets of foot-steps enter Charlotte's bedroom and close the door. She waited a few minutes until she braved the hallway and made her way to Regina's bedroom.

"Are you done fraternizing with the enemy now?" She asked, as she walked towards the brunette.

"I'm sorry? Did you just refer to yourself as 'the enemy'?"

"Maybe."

"Why? I don't think she did anything wrong?"

"Oh, perfect," Emma dramatically flailed her hands in the air. "You like her better, too."

"What on earth are you talking about, dear?"

"Charlotte tossed me aside now that her real mom is here. Henry is obsessed with future-me because she's obviously a better parent than I am. Mary-Margaret is in love with her because she's all, 'don't worry _mom_ you won't murder anyone else, I promise,' and now you're all over her."

"Excuse me," Regina defended herself. "I was not all over her."

"You were hugging her."

"She was talking to me about my mother. She knows things..."

"Things that I don't?" the savior frantically interrupted.

"Yes—things that you don't."

"Tell me! I want to know what she knows."

"I'm not telling you anything in the middle of you having some sort of a bizarre fit."

"I can't compete with her if she knows ten times more than I do! She has an unfair advantage. This is bullshit."

"This isn't a competition."

"It sure as hell feels like one."

"Do you realize how delusional you sound right now?"

"Yeah, okay, fine—let's just wait until future-you shows up and then we'll see how long you keep your sanity intact."

"Get in bed," Regina instructed, refusing to take the bait. "And just calm down—everything is fine."

Emma climbed into the bed and brought her knees to her chest. "I don't know how to deal with this insanity anymore."

"Well, dear," Regina gently placed a hand on her bicep, "if it _was_ a competition I will have you know I only kissed one Emma Swan today and it certainly _wasn't_ her."

The joke caused Emma to laugh as she locked eyes with the queen. She didn't know what she enjoyed more: the fact that Regina had brought up their kiss or that Regina knew mentioning it would cheer her up.

"Well, if you put it like that, it definitely sounds like _I'm_ the one winning."

"If that's what makes you feel better—then, sure, you're winning."

She felt herself relax—and she let go of her knees. Only then did she notice the item Regina was clutching in her own hands.

"Is that a cell-phone?"

"Yes; none other than your future phone, in fact."

"Does it have pictures of us on it?"

"I didn't look at pictures yet."

"Let me see," Emma grabbed the phone and fussed with it until she found a folder containing pictures. "I found them."

Regina scooted closer—so that they could both see the screen. The first picture showed Amelia proudly holding up some sort of trophy.

"Damn," Emma muttered, "that kid is ridiculously cute."

"I wonder what she won."

"She probably obnoxiously wins everything," Emma guessed as she clicked forward to view the next image.

When the second picture appeared on the screen, the savior was met with the sight of her own face. Charlotte was kissing her on the cheek and and Emma wasn't sure she ever saw herself smile so big.

"Charlotte looks so happy with you," Regina told her. "You look very happy, too."

It was the third picture, however, that managed to floor them both. Staring back at them was their future selves wrapped tightly in each other's arms. Emma was holding Regina from behind and resting her chin on the brunette's shoulder. They were both in jeans and sweaters at what looked like some sort of party.

"I knew you'd still look gorgeous," Emma nudged the woman merely inches away from her. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you," she replied, as she studied the picture closely.

"Alright, I mean, at least I get it now."

"Get what, dear?"

"Come on—we're like, really cute together? No?"

"I suppose I can't argue with that."

Unconsciously, they readjusted their position in bed, settling deeper into the blankets and moving even closer to each other.

"Next picture," Regina demanded. "I want to see more."


	12. Confrontations

**Hello, loves! Update time! Important note: Usually the first part of every chapter is in italics because it takes place in "the present." But the first section of this particular chapter is longer than normal and I didn't want to hurt your eyes. So, no italics for this chapter only. Okay? 3 **

**Also we have reached a huge turning point :) After this, a certain someone can also show up in the past!**

**Enjoy and let me know what you think.**

**Also, happy birthday Lana! Yay for MamaRegal!**

* * *

Regina is asleep in Charlotte's bedroom—it's the only place she can get somewhat comfortable. She has grown sick of the couch but still cannot bring herself to fall asleep in, or even look at, her own bed—it feels, and appears, so vacant without Emma.

She has no idea what time it is when she suddenly jolts up from her slumber; as she opens her eyes she wonders what caused her to arise so violently. The question is answered, however, when she tries to sit up and realizes she is being held down. She frantically looks to her wrists and finds that she is bound to the bed by some sort of rope.

A magic rope, to be exact.

There are only two people she knows who use this particular weapon. And one of them is long dead.

She looks up and finds Rumpelstiltskin sitting, casually, at Charlotte's desk.

"I know everyone says the resemblance is uncanny," he speaks as she tries to process the unexpected situation she finds herself in. "But I'm rather certain you're _not_ Charlotte."

"Let me go," are the first words out of her mouth. "And get the hell out of my house this instant."

"That shouldn't be a problem," he replies, voice steady. "As long as you answer me one, simple, question: where are your precious daughters?"

"That is _truly_ none of your business."

"It is my business."

She decides almost immediately to down-play the extent of her knowledge; her instincts are telling her she should act like she doesn't know what he's after.

"What could you possibly want from them? Untie me and get out before I…"

"You what?" He interrupts her, as he cracks his knuckles. "Call the Sheriff? Because it seems as though your wife is missing in action, too. Did she finally wise up and leave you?"

"I do not have to answer questions about the whereabouts of any of my family members while I am being held hostage in my own damn house."

Gold remains unfazed as he stands up and begins to pace back and forth. "Did you know that I'm leaving for New York tomorrow?"

"With Henry," she breathes out, trying to ignore the pain she is in. "Yes, of course—_my son_ shares his plans with me, unlike yours."

"Yes—well, before I leave with _my grandson_, I wanted to stop by to check on my insurance policy."

"Excuse me?" The pit of her stomach twists and turns because, despite her act, she knows exactly what he is saying.

"My insurance policy," he repeats himself. "My rainy-day fund—your two little impossible children—you see, they are my way back into the good graces of a certain someone I care about. And what I'm trying to decide is whether or not you already knew that."

"I have _no idea_ what you're talking about."

She remembers, all too well, playing this game with Owen.

She remembers that as long as she is talking—she is still alive; and the longer she plays dumb, the more things she has to talk about.

"Of course you do," he shouts at her and she feels the rope around her wrists dig tighter into her skin. "Where did Emma take them?"

"Since when are my children not allowed to have sleepovers? Since when is my wife not allowed to spend time with her parents?"

"You're lying."

"Why would I lie?"

"Perhaps you recall a prophecy about a certain young man in my life leading to my demise."

"Henry doesn't want to hurt you. He's trying to _help_ you by taking you to see Neal. And this is how you repay him? By attacking his mother and threatening his sisters?"

"The annoying thing about prophecies is that they tend to leave out the fine print."

"What does that even mean?"

"Maybe Henry doesn't know about it," he concludes, "but you and your savior are planning something."

He is standing directly above her now and his hand, slowly, approaches her throat. She watches as he pulls his infamous dagger out from behind his back with his other hand.

"Get off of me," she squirms, truly frightened for the first time since their conversation began. She feels trapped, her least favorite feeling in the world. And the man holding her captive is acutely aware of her Achilles' heel.

"Does this bring back bad memories of your dearly beloved husband, your majesty?"

"Stop," she lets out a raging scream. "I will kill you."

She knows the threat is less than menacing and she feels his hand press down on her trachea. She wonders if this could truly be the end of her. "_Em-ma_," she desperately whimpers, for no logical reason. Because Emma couldn't be farther away from her at this moment.

She begins to see stars—which is why she is sure her mind is playing tricks on her when she thinks she notices the outline of a shadow on the wall.

But then, something in the back of her panicked mind recalls that Snow is somewhere in the house, too.

She watches the shadow grow bigger as she tries her hardest to stay conscious. But it is no use, the world around her starts to fade to black.

Until she feels the pressure on her throat subside.

Regina coughs and coughs and coughs until her abs hurt and tears are in her eyes. Her vision is back, though blurry-but then it, readjusts. She starts to feel the air flowing back into her lungs. She even thinks she hears a fierce voice shout "step away from my daughter-in-law," but she truly cannot be certain.

When she finally recovers, she can only assume Snow caught Rumpelstiltskin off guard and attacked him. Because her former nemesis is standing in front of Gold and, somehow, she is holding his dagger.

"Point the dagger at him," the energy it takes her to get the sentence out makes her dizzy once more. But Snow follows the instructions and the action sends Gold flying across the room and pins him up against the wall.

"You control him now," Regina explains. "He can't move as long as you hold the dagger like that."

Snow nervously surveys her from head to toe, trying to ascertain the damage that has already been done; her eyes widen at the blood red marks on the Queen's wrists.

"I could kill you right now and end all of this," Snow barks at the intruder.

"Go ahead," he taunts her, "do it."

"No," Regina warns. "Don't give him what he wants—we're not putting him out of his misery."

"If I do it, he won't live to hurt anyone else—and everyone can come home."

It's then Regina understands that Snow's threat might not be an empty one. "But _you'll _become the Dark One," she states the obvious fault in the plan.

"Maybe…maybe I can handle it."

She wants to get up and rip the weapon out of the woman's hands. But the restraints are still holding her down on the bed. She concedes she will have to win the argument with reason alone.

"You couldn't even handle the aftermath of my mother's death—one tiny fragment of your heart was black then and you could barely hold yourself together."

"That was different—that was before… I can be strong for this family."

"Think of David—it will never be the same—you won't be able to love him like you do now."

The mention of her husband seems to strike a nerve. But Gold cannot help but to interject—although he cannot move, he can still speak: "Or you could think of me murdering little Amelia, if it will help your decision."

Snow closes her eyes and swallows before she says, "David would want me to save our grand-children."

"This isn't how we save them; you will _not_ be a martyr."

"This is what mothers do—they sacrifice—they step up—that's what you've been doing for weeks now."

"Mothers also have to consider what their children need," Regina counters. "Emma lived too long without a mother. You can't do this to her."

"Emma told me to protect you! She said, loud and clear, that if it came down to it I should do _anything_ to save you."

"This won't save anyone—this isn't the way. You cannot do this."

"Why not?"

Regina finally realizes it—what she has in common with Snow: they _both_ like it out on the edge of sanity a little too much. And that has always been their collective problem.

She thinks back to a few nights earlier, when she was out on the edge herself—when she was so furious that she smashed glass into her own fist. Snow is that angry now; angry enough to do something she will regret for the rest of her life.

Regina remembers how Snow pulled her back from the ledge by shocking her—and maybe, just maybe, she can return the favor.

"Because," Regina hears herself speak, "I –love—you."

The words do not come out easily—they leave her mouth slowly and painfully. She's not even sure how genuine the statement sounds—because although she means it, the admittance was one she hoped to never have to say out loud.

"What?"

"Well, well, well," Gold chuckles deeply, "isn't that just _heart-warming_."

"Shut up," Snow shrieks at him before glancing back to her daughter-in-law. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," Regina nods, refusing to repeat it.

"Really?"

"You said that David would want you to save your grandchildren and Emma would want you to save me? Well, what about what _I _want? Do you care about that?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"I want you to save yourself from becoming like this miserable man. You've taken too much from me—you don't get to take yourself, too. You don't get to leave me with the aftermath of this. And you certainly don't get to leave Charlotte and Amelia without the only grandmother they will ever know. And that's what will happen—if you become the Dark One—it will be the end of you, Snow White."

"Okay," Snow exhales, the fire in her eyes subsiding. "What do we do, then?"

"That's a good question," Gold speaks up, "you're in a bit of a conundrum because if you put down the dagger, I'll kill you both."

"The first thing you can do," Regina ignores him, "is tell the dagger to untie me."

"Like, talk to it?"

"Yes, talk to it—you're in control."

"Untie Regina," Snow whispers to the knife.

She feels herself released from her restraints; she sits up and takes a mere second to collect herself before she is up on her feet and stalking towards the man responsible for her pain.

"My beautiful, perfect, powerful children will not be the way _you_ attempt to solve the problems you have brought upon yourself. Do you understand me?"

"Well, that was the plan—until your dearest Snow White showed up. How many times has she saved you now, anyway?"

Regina doesn't answer the question. Instead, she walks back to her bed and picks up her phone. She quickly and casually sends a text, while refusing to break eye-contact with Gold.

She believes that although her plan is more than a little off track, it can still be salvaged with the help of her son and the spell he has in his apartment.

"Whatever you're doing," he continues as he watches her, "it's not going to work. Calling in the savior isn't going help—need I remind you, I assigned her that role in the first place?"

"I know you a little too well. And I know that as much as you'll never admit it, you _are_ scared of me."

"Scared of the evil-queen turned soccer-mom? I don't think so."

"You already know what I'm capable of."

"Only because everything you've done—everything your wife has done—it's been exactly what I needed you to do. Every step of the way, I've been the puppet master. Do you think that's going to change now just because you're holding my dagger?"

"Fuck you," Regina says—because she can without repercussion—and because she's always wanted to.

"I believe it was your mother who most enjoyed that particular activity," he snarls back.

"Do not speak of my mother."

"Why not, dearie? Only one of us knows what it's like to be loved by Cora Mills with her heart in her chest. And it's certainly not you."

"Yeah," Regina accepts his statement. "But who loves you now? Not Belle—not Neal—there's no one left."

"Is it really so much better to be supposedly loved by the people you once hated?"

"There is no_ supposedly _in that sentence. You can't manipulate me into believing otherwise."

"Oh how I long for the days when you planned on snapping Snow's neck with your bare hands," he dramatically sighs. "It was so much more fun."

"You're not going to turn us against each other," Snow states. "No matter what you say it's not going to happen."

All eyes turn to a figure in the doorway, as Henry Swan-Mills enters the room.

"What the hell is going on here?" He asks, sounding just like his blonde-mother.

"I don't think they're in favor of our little road trip tomorrow, my boy."

"Mom?" He looks to her. "What happened?"

"He broke into the house, Henry."

Regina watches her son approach his grandfather with feigned concern in his eyes and she feels nothing but pride. "Are you alright?" He asks.

"I'm fine. But why don't you tell your grandmother to kindly hand over my dagger? Then we can just forget this whole entire thing ever happened."

"I would," Henry nods. "But I have a better idea."

The young-man pulls the prepared potion out of his back pocket, opens the cover and throws the contents in his grandfather's face.

"Turns out the prophecy was right," Regina grins as she watches. "The second you brought Henry to me, you sealed your own fate. You thought you were sealing mine but I guess that wasn't in the fine print, either."

Before Gold can respond, he falls to the floor—and Henry is running over to her.

"You alright, Mom?"

"I'm fine, Henry," she insists, though she pulls him in for a hug. "Thank you—you saved the day."

"Why did he even come here tonight?"

"He wanted to check to make sure I wasn't planning anything before you two left for your trip."

"He didn't believe me? I screwed up."

"No, Henry, he believed you entirely—it was when he noticed that no one besides me was home that he suspected something."

"Did he do this you?" He points to her fresh-injuries.

"Yes, but I'm fine," she repeats, before looking at the other woman in the room. "Snow?"

"I'm okay," her mother-in-law nods, as she finally lowers the dagger. "I'm good."

"We have to get him through the portal right away."

"But, Mom—you're bleeding."

"Hardly," she shrugs it off. "He was supposed to inhale this spell completely and now it's merely been thrown at him—I don't know how long it will last—we need to go _now_."

"What do I do with the dagger?" Snow inquires.

"Bring it—just in case. We'll deal with that once he's locked up."

* * *

The older-version of Emma Swan woke up to the familiar sound of the person in bed next to her having a nightmare.

The first thing she heard was _"get off of me"_ and her automatic response was to pull the body closer to her. "Regina," she soothed. "I'm here."

But when she opened her eyes more fully she remembered where, or rather when, she was. She realized that the person suffering from what looked like an incredibly-intense bad dream was not her wife, but her daughter.

"Charlotte," she shook the girl's shoulder, "wake up—it's just a dream."

The teenager sprung up in the midst of a coughing fit and frantically looked around the room, as if she were expecting to find someone else there.

"Hey, kid," Emma comforted as she rubbed her daughter's back, "you're alright."

"Gold," Charlotte muttered.

"You had a dream about him?"

"He was in my room—at home—he was choking me and he had the dagger."

"I promise you it was just a dream."

"It didn't feel like a dream."

"I know—I've had dreams like that, where it feels like it really happened."

"Are you sure he can't like, I don't know, get to me that way?"

Emma frowned at the question. But she should've expected it; no kid could withstand the stress of knowing someone out there, someone as powerful as the Dark One, was actively plotting to murder them.

And it pained her, how much she didn't want this for Charlotte. It reminded her of Henry, post-Neverland; how he would flinch at his own shadow, how he refused to walk to school alone, how it took almost a full year for him to be himself again.

"Through your dreams? No, kid, he can't get to you that way. And I swear that he's never going to even get near you."

"But it feels like someone was really choking me. And my wrists hurt—like something was burning them."

Emma was all too familiar with the idea of dreams that leave real burns behind—she thought back to the red room and shivered. "Like, what kind of burn?" She asked, just to be certain.

"A rope burn, maybe?"

"You're okay," she examined her daughter's wrists and kissed them when she found no evidence of burns. "No one is going to hurt you—and our favorite person ever is going to show up and take us all home soon, alright? Everything is going to go back to normal."

"I'm really glad you're here now."

"Me too. What if I make you some tea?"

The first time Regina woke up from a nightmare Emma didn't know what to do—she merely held her then-girlfriend in her arms. She remembered that when the tears finally subsided, she clumsily offered to make tea; she had heard it was supposed to be soothing. Regina seemed shocked that someone was willing to take care of her. And over the years, despite how much Emma preferred coffee, tea became a symbol of comfort in their household.

"Thanks, Mom; that would be perfect."

Emma got up from the bed, still wearing her borrowed pajamas. She opened the door and walked into the hallway.

But she didn't make it very far before she was stopped by her own mom—who looked nervous and jittery.

"Mom," she greeted, "hey."

"God, Emma, I don't think I'll ever get sick of hearing you call me that."

"What are you doing here this early?"

"I really wanted to see you," her mother explained. "Henry gave me his key."

"Oh—well—here I am."

"It's fascinating," Snow said, as she put her hands on her daughter's face, "you're all grown up."

"I know, but I have to go make tea for Charlotte—is there any way we can talk in like an hour?"

It wasn't that she didn't want to talk now, but she was too distracted by her concern for her daughter. She tried to walk away, but her mother called after her: "Emma—wait—_please_."

"What is it?"

"Are we close?"

"Close to what?"

"No I meant… are you and I close? In the future?"

Emma knew she wasn't supposed to answer questions—but this one seemed innocent enough. And she recalled just how broken her mother was after Cora's death—so, she gave in. "Of course we are close."

But the response didn't seem satisfactory. "When you and Regina first got together did we give you a really hard time about it?"

"A little bit," she admitted. "Mostly, we just avoided talking about it. I think you were too afraid to disapprove. Plus, by the time we started dating, you had reasons to believe she was, at the very least, trustworthy."

"So it doesn't strain our relationship?"

"Shockingly, no, it doesn't."

"Thank you for answering that; I couldn't sleep last night thinking about it."

"Sure, I get it."

"One last thing," Snow begs. "Do Charlotte and Amelia have aunts or uncles?"

"Um, I mean….they call Neal their Uncle," she considered until she realized what her mom was truly asking. "Oh, you want to know if you have any more children?"

"I'm just curious."

"No," Emma answered truthfully. "And I know it's because you didn't want me to watch you raise a kid that wasn't me. I still feel kind of guilty about that."

"No, It must've simply been what was best for our family, Emma. You have always been all we needed."

"Charlotte and Amelia really do have four parents, though. You guys couldn't be more involved with them. Especially, since we're the same age and everything."

"And Regina allows that?"

"There are days she wishes you guys understood boundaries a little better. But, yes, she allows it."

"I can't tell you how…how nice it is to hear that…I thought this whole thing with Cora was the beginning of another war."

Emma cringed-because she knew that a war was, indeed, about to start. But it was a war where Snow White and the Queen would be on the same side. _Tamara and Owen and the Home Office and Peter Pan and Neverland _and all of it was about to happen and none of them had a clue. She wanted to scream at all of them for not seeing what was right under their noses.

"Hey," she pushed the thoughts out of her mind, "Charlotte just had a really bad nightmare. Do you think you could sit with her while I go make that tea?"

"Of course."

"Thanks; I'll be right back."

* * *

The younger-version of Emma Swan woke up in Regina's bedroom. She felt the weight of the brunette's head resting on her shoulder. As she stirred, she felt Regina stir as well. And, soon enough, she watched the woman who was half on top of her open her eyes.

"I don't even remember falling asleep," Emma thought out loud.

"Neither do I," Regina mumbled, as she looked down at the device still in her hand. "The phone died."

"Damn it; I wanted to figure out a way to send myself my favorite picture before it lost power."

"Which was your favorite?"

"It was the one in the kitchen—Amelia was sitting on the counter and Charlotte had her arm around you."

"You're not even in that one."

"Yeah—but, still—it seems like a picture I would keep on my desk at work, or something. If we're that kind of couple, which I'm guessing we are—just based on the limited evidence I have so far."

"I need a shower," Regina declared, as she rubbed her eyes and began to get up.

"Hey, wait," Emma grabbed her arm, steadying her in place. "I need to say good-morning to you for real."

With the explanation offered, Emma leaned in and briefly kissed Regina on the lips. It was the third time their lips had touched, and she internally wondered how many more times this would happen in her lifetime. Apparently, the answer was _countless. _

Emma felt Regina smile into the kiss. But when they pulled apart, she saw hesitancy in the eyes staring back at her. And Emma understood—because it was, admittedly, a little strange—how they were sleeping in bed together and kissing each other as if it were a regular occurrence.

"Look, uh, I was thinking…maybe the two of us could go get dinner tonight?"

Regina bit her lip in contemplation. And Emma wondered when she learned to read Regina so damn well, because she knew exactly what she was thinking—that she didn't want to go out and leave Charlotte and Amelia behind.

"I know you want to spend time with the girls," she continued, "but it would just be a few hours and now that they've got a mom here I don't see why we can't get out of the house for a little while. I actually think it would be a good idea for you to get some air and a change of scenery."

"So, it's just for a change of scenery then?"

"I mean, yeah—and because I want to get to know you better, too. I know I sort of flipped last night—but I still want to know all that stuff you said I don't yet…about your mom, and everything. I just want us to…I don't know, whatever."

"Is this a date?" Regina finally came out with the question.

"It feels a little backwards to call it that. But, I guess?"

"All of this is backwards, dear. We're trying to string together the present based on information we know about the future."

"Yeah, uh, I think we're sort of stuck with backwards and complicated—so I figure we might as well enjoy the parts of it that we can, don't you think?"

"I suppose dinner would be acceptable."

"Great because I know a baby-sitter who looks _exactly_ like me."

"You're hysterical," Regina huffed.

"How about I go make us some coffee?"

"You are welcome to my coffee—but do you think you could also handle brewing me a cup of tea?"

"You trust me not to burn down your house?"

"I think so."

"I'll be right back, then."

"Emma," Regina called out, after she was almost at the door, "please don't make me regret this."

"I won't," the savior replied, seriously.

Because she knew the request was not about the tea.

* * *

When Emma descended the staircase and saw her future-self standing by the coffee pot she wanted to turn and run. Regina would understand, she figured, if she came back empty handed.

But the floorboard beneath her squeaked and gave her away; the older Emma Swan, the one already in the kitchen, turned around and spotted her.

"Hey," younger-Emma hesitantly greeted, "I was just coming down to do the same thing."

"Make coffee?"

"Yeah; and tea for Regina."

"I already boiled water for Charlotte's tea. The kettle is still hot."

"Oh, thanks."

She approached the stove and fumbled around the kitchen until she eventually found a container of green tea. She didn't even know if this was the tea Regina wanted—but she wasn't about to ask for help, either.

She faked confidence as she poured the boiling hot water into a mug and brewed the tea. She opened the cabinet to get sugar but she was stopped before she could put it in the drink.

"No," the older woman corrected her. "She doesn't put sugar in her tea; just a little bit of skim milk."

"Oh," she said, annoyed at the intervention, "alright."

"Is something wrong with you?"

She felt incredibly awkward and the only thing she could think to do was to try and make light of the situation. "I was thinking that maybe if we're both in the same room at the same time the universe will implode."

"No," her own eyes glared disapprovingly back at her, "that's definitely not a thing."

"It was a joke."

"It was a _stupid_ joke—Regina would never send me into a potentially dangerous situation like that."

"And all of this?" She wondered. "There's no level of danger involved? Because, honestly, it seems sort of risky to me."

"That's because you have no idea what you're talking about."

"You guys sent your kids to the wrong time—what if you sent them to before the curse was broken? Or what if you sent them to Ancient Rome?"

"I'm sorry, what part of _Gold will slaughter them_ did you not understand?"

She felt the tension in the room growing—and she wanted it to stop. "Maybe it's better if we just don't speak."

"Too afraid to deal with me?"

"Not—but you're acting like Charlotte did when she first got here; like you want to punch me in the face, or something."

"Yeah—well, I'm sure Charlotte had her reasons. And now that you mention it, I do mostly want to punch you in the face."

"Like I said, it's probably best we just don't talk."

"No, I think I _should_ talk to you because you could really use someone to set you straight on a lot of things."

She was on the receiving end of her own anger. But she thought she understood the source. "You're mad because you think I hate Regina but I _don't_ hate her at all."

"Well, that took you long enough."

"I'm sorry for being a little caught up in the shit show that I walked into when I came to this town."

"You_ will_ be sorry for the rest of your damn life. Every morning you wake up to her you will think about all the days you didn't."

"I don't need to hear this."

"Hear what? How pathetic you are?"

"I'm not…"

"You can't argue with me. I have the benefit of hindsight."

"Well I have the benefit of still remembering what it was like to have Regina almost choke the life out of me," she spat back. Because although she didn't blame Regina anymore, she didn't think she had been wrong, either. "After I…after I tried…."

"Tried to what? Bring her over to 'the good side.'"

"I didn't know the back-story—no one told me all the screwed up stuff that happened before I was even born."

"You didn't ask, either."

"I was a little busy trying to save my family."

"Regina is your family."

"She's your family—she's not mine, yet."

"No, see, that's your problem. She should've been family the second you knew she was Henry's mother. You can't even comprehend the hell you put her through—you just marched into her life and you encouraged her son to treat her like shit to make yourself feel better about giving him up in the first place."

The last words hit her hard—and she searched her mind for a response. But, before she could come up with one, Regina walked into the kitchen. "Is everything alright in here?"

"No," the younger Emma replied.

"Yes," her older counterpart disagreed.

"What's going on with you two?"

"Future-me is a total _bitch_, that's what's going on."

"Oh, I forgot how immature you are, too—immature and pathetic."

"Stop it, please," Regina begged. "Stop fighting—you'll wake everyone up."

"Speaking of that, when Amelia wakes up one of us is going to have to get out of here and I'm not leaving my children after I literally traveled through time to see them."

"Don't worry," Emma assured. "I'll make your life easier by going to work."

"You don't have leave, though, Emma. You can stay upstairs."

She was pretty certain it was Regina's attempt to ask her to stay. But this time, she wasn't sure she could.

"Look, Regina, I need….I need a break. It's not you—it's just _this_—it's her. I'll go crazy sitting in a room all day—you're going to be with the girls and I can't even be with them while she's here. So, I think it will be good if I just go into work for a little while."

"Okay, dear; that's fine."

"Of course—run away—like usual—that should solve everything," her future-self leaned against the wall and rolled her eyes. "Clearly, it has worked so well for you so far."

"I'm not running from you, Regina."

"I understand," Regina replied. And clearly, she did. Because she waved her hand over Emma, and changed her into her Sheriff's uniform.

"Thank you."

All she wanted was to kiss Regina good-bye before she left. But future-Emma was staring at her like she might punch her in the face if she took one step closer towards 'her wife.'

So, Emma walked out of the mansion and felt her cheeks flush a hot, red. She wasn't sure if she had ever felt this much self-doubt.

Because at the moment she hated her current self.

She definitely hated her future-self.

And her future-self hated her current self, too.

She didn't really understand where that left her.

The only solace she could take was that Regina didn't seem to hate either one of them.


	13. Four moms

**I apologize that this chapter was delayed. First, it was because I REALLY wanted to get the reunion scene right. And then it because of the Comic Con fiasco. I was slightly bummed out, as many of you were, by what happened.**

**But I hope that you are still willing to read and to enjoy. There is nothing Adam or Eddy or anyone could say to stop me from caring about these two characters. This story is a healing process for me, in a way. Because I want to believe that two people as damaged as Regina and Emma can grow up and raise a beautiful family.**

**That being said I also wanted to make this chapter rewarding for both couples (future and present). I hope that I accomplished that. More so, I hope this makes some of you smile during one of our less than stellar weeks as a fandom.**

**Much love.**

**(Edited, bc last night I uploaded the one with a few grammar mistakes. sry!)**

* * *

_Rumpelstiltskin is in his cell._

_Rumpelstiltskin is in his cell and he can't get out._

_She never has to go back to the Enchanted Forest._

_Henry is downstairs with his grandparents. All three of them are safe._

_Regina repeats these thoughts to herself over and over again as she stands in her bedroom closet and packs a small bag. _

_Charlotte. Amelia. Emma: they will be back soon._

_She will bring them back. _

_"Regina?" Snow slowly walks into the closet, holding an item covered in tissue paper close to her chest. _

_"Yes?" _

_"I wanted to give you something."_

_"You did?" She tries her best to imagine what it could be. Because this certainly isn't the time for exchanging gifts. Nor is such an occurrence commonplace between them. _

_Snow answers by removing the paper and revealing a red, leather jacket. No further explanation is necessary. She would recognize this particular piece of clothing anywhere. _

_Regina takes a few steps closer, close enough to run her fingertips over the material. "I haven't seen this in so long; I assumed she got rid of it." _

_"I may have, um, borrowed it?"_

_"Without her knowing?" Regina figures, as she takes the jacket into her own hands. "You stole it." _

_"Well, she wasn't using it anymore and I wanted to keep it. It reminds me of..."_

_"Of when she first got to Storybrooke." _

_"It has sentiment; Emma had the blue candle to help her get to the girls. I thought this might help you get to her." _

_"Sentiment," she considers. "Yes." _

_"Do you think, maybe, you should rest a little before you leave?" Regina watches Snow eye her from head to toe. "We had a long night." _

_Regina cannot argue with that. Portal hopping may be easier now, but that doesn't make the journey between worlds less tiresome. And now, she is about to start yet another, equally draining, journey. _

_And she is aware that she looks nothing like herself. She is still wearing the clothes she was sleeping in when she was woken by Gold: gray leggings and a slightly darker gray long sleeve shirt that says "Storybrooke Sheriff's Department" on the front._

_She hasn't had make-up on her face in days. __She thinks she took a shower this morning, but this morning feels like so long ago that she cannot even remember for certain._

_"I can't wait," is all she offers. Because, sure, she would like to show up for her wife and children looking better than this. But she would rather show up in a paper bag than have to wait another second. _

_"Okay," Snow accepts without protest. Wordlessly, she helps Regina into the red jacket. _

_"This is going to look hideous on me." _

_"No, you've always looked pretty bad-ass in leather."_

_"Look..." Regina begins. Because this is the first time they have been alone since Snow saved her. And she recognizes she should probably acknowledge it, she should probably express her gratitude._

_"Don't." _

_"What?" _

_"Don't thank me for any of it," her mother-in-law instructs. "And as for what you said to me, we don't have to ever talk about it again." _

_This, well, it might just be the most understanding she has ever received from Snow White. Because she has no desire to talk about it. She has no desire to think about it. No desire to relive it. _

_It is enough for her to know that, deep down, there is love between them. _

_It is enough for both of them. _

_"Well, that's certainly a relief." _

_"Just bring our family home."  
_

* * *

Emma had never been so happy to deal with a fender-bender in all of her life. She had never been so happy to chase down a dog and return him to his owner. She had never been so happy to write a speeding ticket.

All day long she had been blessed with distractions at the Station. And distraction was, precisely, what she needed. For a few hours, her life felt mundane, ordinary, normal.

She did feel guilty, of course, for leaving Regina back at the house. Regina didn't get mundane. Regina was still in the midst of chaos.

Despite her guilt, Emma knew she didn't have much of a choice. Future-her wouldn't have allowed this to go any differently.

Because future-her was a bossy, over-confident, _bitch _who essentially kicked her out of the house. Future-her had seemingly forgotten all that had transpired before she got her damn happy-ending. And that only served to make the resentment that much stronger.

Emma felt a whole lot of resentment. And yet, there was a level of respect she couldn't shake. Because, she had to admit, that future-her seemed to have her life together. Future her, after all, had won over Regina Mills.

And despite all of the Sheriff-Station distractions, Emma couldn't stop her thoughts from wandering back to Regina over and over again. She realized now that they always had. Even in the days before the curse ended, her mind was entirely consumed by the Mayor: keeping up with her, undermining her, defeating her.

Now, of course, she wondered about that fine line between love and hate.

It hadn't been intentional, no. But, perhaps, it was inevitable.

She was pulled out of her own inner-dialogue when a small explosion of golden light appeared in the middle of the room; it looked almost like a flash of lightening. Emma briefly wondered if indoor thunderstorms were on the list of impossible things that could occur in this godforsaken town.

But when the flash was gone, and it was gone as quickly as it came, a body dropped to the floor.

Emma heard the_ thud_ loud and clear. She got up from her desk and rushed towards the sound.

When she stood above the body, she just knew. Despite the uncharacteristic clothing, despite the startlingly tiny frame, despite the fact that she was looking at her _own_ jacket….she knew exactly who had just appeared.

_"Regina?" _

The woman on the floor tried to pull herself up on her elbows but failed miserably. Emma heard Regina's chin hit the floor and she cringed at the painful sound of bone against tile. She bent down in response, offered the woman her hand and used all of her strength to pull the brunette up.

"Shit, it's really you," she said, once they were both standing and face to face. "You just fell out of thin air. That's seriously what time-travel looks like? Damn. That was magic? Time-travel magic?"

The ranting questions went unanswered by this version of Regina Mills. Instead, the panting woman leaned her weight against the desk, looked at Emma intensely and said, "_Please_ tell me my children are here."

"No, they're..."

The second Emma said _no_, Regina violently wrestled the infamous jacket off of her body, threw it onto the floor and stomped on it repeatedly.

"Stupid goddamn jacket is as useless as it always was. I should've never listened to your mother...but, no, she was all _take the jacket, Regina it has sentimental value_. Sentiment in that I should've set it on fire years ago. Now how the hell am I supposed to figure out where my kids are? I cannot do this anymore, I just need to find them and I..."

"Wait, stop, no," Emma pleaded, when she realized her own mistake. "I only meant they're not in this building."

_"What?" _

"Um," she was afraid to explain herself; afraid of the scolding that would result. "They're not here, as in at the Station. Charlotte and Amelia are at your house. I'm really sorry I thought you meant..."

She braced herself for the impending wrath. But instead, Regina's facial expression softened and her eyes lit up. "You have them? They're fine?"

"Oh, yeah, they're totally good…I promise."

Regina loudly exhaled in relief, "and my wife?"

"Yeah, she's there. She crashed Charlotte's birthday party and hasn't left them since."

"Take me," Regina begged her. "_Please_, take them to me right now."

"Sure, of course…I just need to…" she ran over to the coat-stand, grabbed her jacket and the keys to the cruiser.

"Hurry up, you don't understand."

It was when Emma returned, ready to go, that she truly noticed: the dark bruises on Regina's neck, the burns on her wrist, the bandage on her palm, the bags under her eyes.

And she had to wonder exactly what this Regina had been through to get here; how hard she worked for this reunion. She wanted to ask, but she knew better then to think it was her place.

"Um, do you need a doctor, or something?" She felt it was necessary to ask.

"No; I just need my family."

The answer made Emma smile. Because she thought, first, of Charlotte. And it felt like a victory that _she_ could be the one to bring Charlotte's mom home to her.

"Alright then, let's get you to them."

Emma began to walk away, but when she sensed no one was following her, she turned around. It seemed that Regina was stuck, unable to lift her weight off the desk she was holding onto for support.

"I'm having a little bit of trouble."

"It's okay," Emma promised. She walked back over and allowed Regina to lean on her. "I got you."

"Thank you, love."

_Love_, the savior thought. The word rolled so very effortlessly off this woman's tongue.

Now, Emma had an entirely _new _distraction on her hands.

* * *

Regina sat in her living room with future-Emma and Charlotte; the mother-daughter duo seemed to be in their own world. Although part of her wished to be included, she also wanted to let them have this time. She was certain they had earned it.

She considered going upstairs to play with Amelia, but Snow and David had been monopolizing the child all day. She was still trying her hardest not to be irked at how much the little girl seemed to have a particular attachment to her grandfather. Regina had personally never understood what was so damn enticing about the Prince, nor could she get the image of them supposedly becoming jogging buddies out of her head.

"You okay?" Emma asked her, taking note of her zoned-out silence. "Earth-to-Regina? Anyone there?"

"Why is Amelia obsessed with David?" She asked, before she could stop herself.

"Well, I wouldn't say she's obsessed. I don't know…I mean, Amelia's kind of a tom-boy; they do a lot of stuff together."

"Aren't _you_ kind of a tom-boy?"

The questioned caused Charlotte to giggle, though Regina wasn't sure why it was amusing. In the limited time she had been around them, she felt entirely like an outsider. She was constantly confused by the inside jokes and years of history she couldn't begin to grasp.

"Yeah," Emma also laughed and nudged her daughter's shoulder, "and I couldn't even get it to rub off on _this_ one."

"Hey, that's not true," Charlotte defended. "I'm athletic."

"You ride horses and run around in a circle for track."

"That _is_ athletic. Where do you think I get these leg muscles from?"

"Your _insanely _good genes, I'm pretty sure. Talk to me when you've got the hand-eye coordination to kick around a soccer ball."

"Horse-back riding requires a lot of strength and skill," Regina informed the older-Emma.

"You_ would _take her side."

Regina furrowed her brow, unsure how to reply. Frankly, it was difficult for her to keep up with these conversations.

"She's just teasing, you know," Charlotte told her.

"I know," she replied. But she was unsure _why_ she said it. Because she was positive she knew nothing about this family, _her_ family.

"Mom loves horseback riding, too. We all go together."

"I haven't been riding in ages."

"Yeah," Emma gave her an understanding nod. "But you will."

She leaned back into the couch, content to return to her silence. Truthfully, she could simply watch Charlotte all day. She wondered if the teenager saw the way she stared at her. She marveled at her existence, her love, her kindness and understanding. She was all but a miracle.

"Regina," Emma spoke again, merely seconds later.

"Yes?"

"No," Emma closed her eyes, "_Not_ you."

"Mom?" Charlotte placed her hand on her mother's arm. It looked as though the savior was channeling some sort of energy.

"_She's here. _I can just...I can _feel_ it."

"Mommy's here?" Charlotte jumped up, accepting the nonsensical explanation without protest. "Are you sure? Where is she?"

Just as Charlotte finished speaking, the trio heard the front door open. Charlotte sprinted towards the foyer and Emma took off after her.

Momentarily, Regina considered staying behind. She thought no good could come of it, really. The interaction between the two versions of Emma was nothing short of hostile. She could only imagine what future-her would have to say to the version of herself that still wanted to kill her mother-in-law.

But despite that awareness, she couldn't calm the curiosity; it was too tempting. She decided to merely get a glimpse. After all, she wanted to see Charlotte reunite the woman she called mommy. Then, she could join _her_ Emma at the station.

By the time Regina got to the door, the future-version of herself already held Amelia in her arms. Snow and David stood holding hands by the staircase. Somehow, the two idiots had gotten to the door first. Regina spotted her version of Emma, and quickly made it to her side to watch the scene unfold.

"Hi, baby," she heard her own voice soothe the younger girl.

Charlotte and future-Emma hung back. The teenager was visibly shaking as tears formed in her eyes. But she didn't approach her mother. It was as if she understood that as much as she didn't want to, she had to wait her turn—because her sister deserved this moment as much as she did.

"Mommy, there are two of you," Amelia observed. "And two of mom."

Collectively, everyone in the room held their breath. Because the lie they had been perpetuating all along was, in an instance, shattered. But the girl's mother seemed unfazed.

"I know," she nodded, "but it's just a magic trick."

"It's a spell?"

"A very complicated one, yes. Does it scare you?"

"No," Amelia decided immediately. "But you're my _real_ mommy."

"Well, sweetheart, it's not exactly a matter of real and fake."

"No, I know that you're the real one. And _that's_ my real mom," the young girl pointed to the older Emma. "Do you have my blanket, mommy?"

"Of course, I have your blanket."

It was Mary-Margaret who reacted most visibly to future-Regina pulling the blanket out of her bag; it was off-white with the child's name sown in purple lettering. It looked just like Emma's blanket, the only remainder of her childhood the savior had.

"Thank you," Amelia accepted it, and cuddled it to her face. "I couldn't find it anywhere. I read six books while you were gone because Pop still likes to read with me even though he's a little bit _different_. Everything is a little different."

"Six? That's a _lot_. You'll have to tell me all about them."

"I didn't go to school this whole time," the girl confessed, like she was aware she had done something wrong.

"That's alright, Amelia. You're not in trouble. It wasn't your fault that you couldn't go."

"Am I going to have four moms forever? Because that's _a lot_ of moms."

"No, it's only going to be a little while longer."

"But I get to keep _you_, right?"

"Yes," Regina's breath seemed caught in her throat, as tears finally rolled down her face, "you get to keep me."

"Then why are you sad?" Amelia asked, as she put her hands on her mother's face.

"I'm not sad. I'm _very_ happy. I promise."

"Then can I take a nap now that I have my blanket?"

"You're tired, huh?"

"I played with Nan and Pop _all day _upstairs."

"Then, yes, of course you can take a nap."

"Pop! Take me?"

Regina was sure she heard the older version of herself actually grimace in pain when David took Amelia out of her arms. Her eye followed Snow and David as they walked with the child upstairs. But soon enough, the woman's attention focused on her other daughter, who was clearly tired of waiting her turn.

_"Charlotte." _

The moment was so very different from Charlotte's reunion with her blonde mother. When the young girl saw Emma for the first time, she ran to her and Emma spun her around in the air.

But Charlotte approached Regina slowly, as if she was cherishing each step that brought them closer. When she finally stood before her mother, she melted into the woman's arms and buried her face into the crook of her neck.

"Happy birthday, my sweet girl," Regina whispered, just loud enough to be heard. "I can't believe I...I can't believe that I wasn't with you."

"It doesn't matter; you're here now."

"I'm here now," she repeated. "Do you feel older? You look older. Did you know you got more beautiful while we were apart? How did you do that?"

"I feel older because these two weeks felt longer than my whole entire life combined," Charlotte cried. "I missed you _so_ much."

"Darling, you can't even begin to understand how much I missed you. I am so, so sorry."

"For what? Saving my life? Yes, how dare you," she sarcastically replied, sounding quite like Emma. "Why don't you stop being so inconsiderate to your children?"

"I know, right? It's unbelievable," future Emma added, as she finally approached them both. It appeared she, too, had waited her turn long long enough. "Nice jacket."

"Not really," Regina said, through her sniffles. "My wife has horrific taste."

"Uh, except for her taste in women, right?"

"Yes, well, I guess there is _that_."

Emma wrapped her arms around them both, sandwiching Charlotte in the middle. She leaned over her daughter's head and kissed her wife on the lips.

"It's over," Regina said, when they pulled apart. "We did it."

"No, _you_ did it; let's be really clear about that. I get no credit for this one."

"I think you're depriving our daughter of oxygen."

"I don't even care," Charlotte looked up at them. "You can keep doing that as long as you'd like."

"Regina," Emma laughed, "I think Charlotte actually missed our PDA. Did you ever think you'd live to hear that?"

"That's not funny," Charlotte cringed. "Because I didn't know if you _were_ going to live. Mommy, I was _so _worried Gold was going to kill you and I would never see you again."

"I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

"But he hurt you," Charlotte knew, "your neck."

Emma was already examining the injuries closely. "He didn't go down easy, huh?"

"He broke into the house."

"Excuse me? He came after my wife in our own house?"

"Yes, and then your mother was about two seconds away from becoming the Dark One."

_"What?" _Emma gasped.

"Nana?" Charlotte added, equally as surprised.

"Don't worry, she's okay," Regina confirmed. "And the rest of the plan worked. He won't be coming out of that cell anytime soon. It just wasn't the greatest night of my life, to say the very least."

"And Henry?" Emma inquired about her son.

"What about me?" A voice spoke from behind them. Henry stood in the doorway—he dropped his backpack on the floor as he looked around at the two versions of his mothers. "Mom?"

"Yes," future-Regina stepped away from her family and approached him. "My little Henry."

"You're my mom from the future?"

"Yes," she repeated, as she bent down to his eye-level, "I am."

"That's the biggest ring I've ever seen," he gawked, as he looked directly at her left-hand. "How did Emma even afford that? Did she have to sell off all her belongings or something?"

"No, honey, it was made out of diamond from the trigger...you helped her get it..." she trailed off mid-sentence. She stood back up-right and looked around the room, as if she was trying to decide something.

"The trigger?" Her son questioned. "What trigger?"

"Henry, dear, why do you look like you're...you're eleven or twelve?"

"Because I am."

"But that would make this..."

"Everything is _fine_," Charlotte rushed back to her mother's side, grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I promise."

But the assurance did not seem to convince her. "Emma? What is this? Where are we?"

"Okay, look, here's the thing...I don't know how, but something got a little bit screwed up in terms of where we sent them. But it's not a big deal because you're here now and we can get the hell out, no damage done."

"What year is it?" She asked, never taking her eyes off Henry.

"I love you _so_ much," Emma prefaced the admission. "It's 2013."

"What month?" The older-Regina visibly flinched. "Is my mother? Is she_?_"

"Your mother died shortly before the girls showed up here."

"I can't believe this," she processed, as she instinctively clung Charlotte tighter to her. "I can't believe I did this to you, on top of everything else. I can't….this is…"

"You didn't do anything," Charlotte promised her.

"This is in the middle of...this is a disaster."

"Hey," Charlotte tried to calm her, "I almost could've met Grandma Cora, if it was just a little bit earlier. I wish I could have."

"_No_," Regina nearly shouted. "I'm so glad you didn't. That would've been so….complicated. And you know that she couldn't have…that she couldn't have loved you. That would've hurt me too much, it would've killed me. Because you, my angel, will _never_ have to know what that's like."

"She's right," Emma confirmed, as she rejoined her wife's side. "But we can go home before anything else...you know, happens. We can just go."

"I have to recharge the magic, Emma."

"It has to recharge for us to go home?"

"I set it for three trips. We used an extra one to get you here."

"How long will that take, mommy?"

"Not long. Maybe a day...or two," she concluded. "But do we even _have_ a day or two?"

"We didn't come this far and go through all of this to get screwed over by _that woman_ now, alright?"

"Is it alright?" Regina brought her hands to her forehead. "I think I need to sit down."

As the married couple walked out of the room with their daughter, Henry followed closely behind them.

The younger versions of Emma and Regina were left to process what they had witnessed.

"Who is the woman I'm talking about?" Emma asked. "Do you know?"

"I'm not sure, but I think it might be Neal's finance? Everyone seems to be have a strong reaction to her name."

Without saying anything else, they jointly made the decision to follow the future into the next room, too.

* * *

Emma watched the future-version of herself cuddle her wife in her arms on the couch. Henry sat across from them, staring at the affection between the two women he cared about most in the world.

"Do you want cake?" Charlotte offered her mother. "We have cake."

"Is it your birthday cake?"

"Yeah, you made it for me...well, not _you_...but...anyway, do you want some? It's really good. I think you would like it and I just really think you should have some. And maybe some milk because that goes good with cake?"

"I would love a piece, yes."

Charlotte ran into the kitchen, as if she was in some sort of a race.

"Regina, I think our daughter is not so subtly trying to fatten you back up."

"I realize that. But I don't want her to worry about me."

"Good luck with that. When was the last time you slept? Or do I not want to know?"

"The last time I was asleep I was woken up by Gold's magic holding me down on the bed."

"Are you kidding me? He attacked you while you were sleeping?"

"He was going to kill me."

"He's lucky he's locked up, then. Because I swear to God..."

Charlotte walked back into the room and the two women exchanged an obvious _we'll-talk-about- this-later_ look.

The teenager sat back down on the couch and placed the food in front of her mother. But before future-Regina could pick up the cake, her daughter held her hands out and aimed them directly at her.

"What are you doing, love?"

"I'm healing you."

"_Hey_," Regina placed her hands over her daughter's, "since when do you do magic without asking one of us for permission?"

Younger-Emma considered, for a moment, tattling . But she figured now that her real parents were here, she really had no right to say a damn thing.

"Can I use magic to heal you?"

"That's completely unnecessary; I'm fine."

"I'm sure you _are_ fine. But I want to help you. I want to feel like I did something useful."

"Do you not understand how brave you have been, kid?

"You have been more than useful, dear."

"Please? Just this once? Can I please just help you? You always help everyone else but you never let anyone else help _you_."

"It is not healthy to rely on magic to stop us from feeling pain."

"I think, maybe, we can make an exception this time?" Her wife proposed. "You know I agree, completely, with that sentiment. But, honestly, Regina, I kind of want to heal you, too. You don't deserve to be in _this_ much pain right now."

"I can't say no to you when you gang up on me like this. But this is a one-time exception. Are we clear?"

Emma and Charlotte both nodded before they went to work. Charlotte healed her mother's wrists, while Emma worked on her neck

And as it happened, younger Emma grabbed _her_ Regina by the elbow and pulled her out into the hallway.

"What the hell are you doing, Emma?"

"Let's get out of here."

"What?"

"Date night," she said, casually. "Don't you remember?"

"I don't even remember my name right now."

"Yeah, and that's exactly why we should go."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think that watching this can be healthy," Emma concluded. "And I really don't think anyone here is going to miss us. Do you?"

"No," Regina agreed, albeit reluctantly. "But what about Henry?"

"He'll go home with my parents, they're still upstairs. And he's just as fascinated by this as everyone else."

"Fine. But let's go out the back way."

"Why?"

The question went unanswered as Emma followed her into the kitchen. She watched as Regina went directly for the fridge.

"_This_," the brunette held up a bottle of wine, "is why."

"Yeah, after the week we've had…I'm definitely _not_ going to argue with that."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Emma and Regina were at the Mayor's office. As much as Emma wanted them to go somewhere nice, they both knew it was best not to be seen together in public.

"For the record," she clarified, "this is not what I had in mind when I asked you on a date."

"Well, you're not what I had in mind when I imagined my future spouse."

"Touché and back at you."

"And yet…I look happy, don't I? I mean, I look like I've been through hell. But I look happy."

"Yeah and I look at you like you're the only person I can see."

"It's even worse in person than in the pictures."

"What is?"

"How _nauseating _in love we look."

"Yeah, it is a little nauseating, isn't it?"

For a moment, they were both lost in thought. And words failed to come to them.

"There is a television room down the hallway," Regina stated, breaking the silence. "When Henry was younger, I wanted him to have a place to hang out while I worked."

"That was nice of you," Emma didn't understand the relevance. "I'm sure he appreciated it."

"I'm sorry; I don't think I was being clear. I was asking if you wanted to watch a movie, since this is 'date night' and I think that is what people in this world do on dates."

"Oh," Emma understood—and was completely endeared by the sentiment. "I mean, yeah, sure. But we were supposed to talk. I want to get to know you."

"You already know me. You know me better than anyone has known me in a long time. And it's a little bit intimidating because I'm not sure how you seem to understand so much, so fast."

"I'm a fast learner."

"Apparently," Regina nodded. "Besides, I am...I'm speechless at this point."

"You know what? You're right. I think a movie would do us both some good."

"I'm glad you see it my way."

"On one condition, though."

"And what is that?"

"Can you tell me what you were talking to future-me about last night? When she hugged you?"

"You are relentless, aren't you? You just cannot accept that she could possibly know more than you."

"I cannot accept that, no."

"She was talking to me about Cora," Regina admitted, without further argument. "She felt that although it was understandable for me to be upset, I still needed to acknowledge that my mother was abusive. She was reminding me of a few instances in my childhood that made that particular fact undeniable."

"Christ, Regina. That's how she comforted you? By reminding you of what your mother did to you?"

"Oddly, it _was_ comforting."

"Oh, well then…that's good, I'm glad."

"And it was nice to hear a future version of myself speak to Charlotte about my mother today—because what was said was quite accurate and honest. I am glad I will eventually get to that place."

"You'll get there."

"Can we please watch a movie now?"

"Lead the way."

* * *

As it turned out, Emma learned a lot about Regina from watching a movie with her. After the events that had transpired lately, she had almost forgotten that getting to know someone could be relatively simple.

Emma learned that Regina didn't particularly care for popcorn, but ate chocolate bars from the vending machine in town hall.

She learned that the supposedly cold and heartless woman enjoyed comedies, even romantic ones.

She learned that, surprisingly, Regina didn't mind talking during the movie. Nor did she mind Emma holding her hand.

When the film was over. Emma noticed the now empty bottle of wine on the table.

"When did we finish this?" She tried to recount.

"I don't know."

Emma was certain she only had a glass and a half. And reasoned that Regina must've finished the rest on her own.

"Um, did I get you drunk?"

"I don't think you had anything to do with it. And I'm not drunk; I am a tad intoxicated."

Emma understood. Because the night she had come face to face with her future, she had consumed her entire weight in french fries.

"Is our date really that bad?" She joked. "You needed to booze away my presence?"

"No," Regina didn't seem to find humor in the remark, "our date is perfect."

"Alright, good."

"No, I _mean_ it," the queen slightly slurred her words. "Our date is perfect."

"If this is your standard of perfect, I'm glad. Because I'm pretty sure I can out-do this next time."

"What do you think the other versions of us are doing right now, Emma?"

"Getting down and dirty, maybe?" She teased. "They did have a long separation, only seems like the natural conclusion."

"When I read our texts from the future you were all, 'come home and make more babies with me Regina' but the phone died so I couldn't show you."

"Somehow, I believe you on that one without seeing the evidence for myself."

"Good because I'm telling the truth. I won't lie to you anymore, okay?"

"I know you won't."

"You trust me? Because when they first got here you said you could never trust me and you never knew when I would just snap."

"I trust you completely, yeah. Do you still think it's impossible to be with me because of who my family is?"

"No," Regina admitted. "I will outrun your father on jogs and avoid your mother."

"Okay," Emma laughed, as she stared down at their intertwined fingers, "that sounds like a good plan."

"Yes, a very good plan."

"I wish there was a way we could see what they were doing without actually having to speak to them, you know? Because it's painfully awkward trying to talk to either one of them."

"Technically, there is."

"There is what?"

"A way to do exactly what you said."

"How?"

"The very same invisibility spell Amelia used during hide-and-seek."

"Wait, you're serious aren't you?"

"I am _always_ serious. You should probably learn that now instead of later."

"You know, I am uncomfortable with how hot I now find it when you're being an evil genius."

"Well then, just wait until I show you my Queen outfits."

"Wait, excuse me? You still have them? Where are you hiding them?"

"Come along now, dear," Regina stood up and tried to balance on her own two feet. "We have some spying to do."


	14. The Happy Calm

**Your next update, my loves :) Hope you enjoy! And as for those asking: I promise there WILL be past-Regina/ future-Regina bonding coming up. **

**Also, I plan to do something special for the 300th reviewer. Because I simply cannot believe how many of you have stuck with me through this overly domestic story. THANK YOU ALL! **

**Bench ya later & happy reading! xo Dakota**

* * *

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Emma Swan held up the weight of an incapacitated Regina Mills.

Earlier that day, she had helped the older and injured version of Regina out of the police station and to the car. She had brought a mother separated from her wife and children home. She had reunited a family.

Now, Emma felt the warmth of the younger (and more-than-a-little intoxicated) Regina's body against her own. Together, they made their way down the streets of Storybrooke with a common goal in mind.

Emma tried not to think too hard about potential metaphor of carrying Regina. Because according to the all-knowing Charlotte, she would be carrying this woman through the rest of their joint life journey. Or, maybe, it was more appropriate to say that they would be carrying each other; holding on to each other for love and encouragement and everything either one of them could have ever wanted.

But she wasn't going to think about that.

Instead, she focused on the multitude of reasons why this was, in fact, a horrible idea. She already knew spying on their future-selves would end horribly.

But she didn't seem to care. Because she wanted, _needed_, to know what the couple was like when they thought no one was watching. She had allowed, encouraged even, a drunken Regina to use a spell; an invisibility spell, to be exact. All they needed to do was make it back to the mansion in one piece.

"Be quiet, Emma," the brunette repeated for the third time in a five minute time-period. For some reason, Regina kept scolding the savior for being loud, despite the fact that Emma wasn't actually speaking.

"Why do I need to be quiet, anyway?" She wondered out loud, as she considered the absurdity of the request. "Aren't we invisible?"

"It doesn't make people not hear you," Regina informed her. "You _still _have to be quiet."

"It's after dinner on a weekday in Storybrooke. No one is out here, anyway."

"If someone hears us they will look out their window and not see us and that will be _bad_. No one can know about this or the plan won't work."

"If there is an invisibility spell can't you make like a cone of silence, or something?"

"Why do you always have to argue with me?" Regina asked as she planted her feet firmly on the ground, stopping them both. "_Why?_ You can you never just listen and trust that I know what I'm doing. I am only asking you to be quiet. You have to make everything so difficult. You would think that I was asking you to do astrophysics."

"Okay," Emma caved, as she lowered her voice to a whisper. She was trying not to laugh at the exaggerated tone Regina was using, or the way she was endlessly ranting with slurred words. "Is this better?"

"Yes," Regina nodded. "Thank you."

Regina steadied herself again by wrapping her own arm tighter around Emma's waist.

Emma took advantage of the moment and really looked at the woman next to her. The queen's cheeks were flushed red, her hair was frizzy and out of place and she was sweating despite how cold it was outside.

Anyone else in the world may have thought Regina looked like an utter mess. But Emma thought she looked beautiful—she had her guard down and it wasn't just because of the alcohol she had consumed. Regina had her guard down because of everything that had happened to them over the last few weeks.

It had undeniably changed them both.

Emma looked at Regina, who was looking back at her. In fact, Emma was sure Regina was staring directly at her lips—almost begging for contact.

"And you are absolutely positive that no one can see us right now?"

"Are you _doubting _my magic? Do you think I cannot use a spell that you watched a five-year-old child do just the other day? Why do you think so little of me?"

"I think the world of you," Emma corrected her—and it was strange that it was true—that her perspective had shifted so drastically and so quickly. "I just wanted to make sure before I make a scene in the middle of the street."

"What are you even talking about?"

Emma turned Regina towards her, closed the gap between them and crashed their lips together.

Emma kissed her as if she were trying to prove a point.

And, perhaps, she was.

Because as her tongue parted Regina's lips, she couldn't shake the words of her future-self.

She didn't want to take Regina for granted, she didn't want to miss what was right in front of her, she didn't want to waste time pretending she didn't feel what was between them.

Her heart-fluttered in a rather juvenile manner as their bodies pressed together.

"Oh," Regina gasped, when they parted for air. She kept her arms tossed around the blonde's shoulders, looked up at her and smiled brightly with approval. "You taste like magic and chocolate."

"Yeah, well, that's definitely not my fault; you made me split that chocolate bar with you."

"I wish we had another one right now," Regina announced, with an extended lower lip.

"There's no need to pout about it. Why don't you just magic-one up?"

"Two chocolate bars in one night? No, I don't think so."

"Of course not, because _that_ would be living life just a little too dangerously," Emma teased her. "Although, if we split a second bar, technically we will have both only eaten one."

"That's true," Regina realized. "You are not as void of intellectual prowess as I once thought you were. I think I can live with your level of intelligence for the rest of my life without committing suicide."

"You know," Emma said, as she readjusted their position so they could continue walking, "I'm going to file that under a compliment despite the fact that I'm not sure it was one."

"I think I meant it as one. Did it not come out that way?"

"It came out just fine."

"This is just like you and Henry," Regina told her, as they turned the corner onto Mifflin Street.

"What is?"

"You and Henry used to sneak around behind my back. And you, _Sheriff_, would break in places and _spy_ on me."

"Yeah, I did. Though, to be fair, you were spying on me, too—right?"

"I was wrong about a lot of things," Regina said, solemnly. "But I will _never _apologize for spying on my son's birth-mother after she stormed back into his life and demanded time with him. Anyone would have done the same. It wasn't because I'm evil. It wasn't because you're the savior. It was because I love him and I promised to protect him the very first day I held him in my arms."

"You're not evil," Emma said, as she digested the words and considered the point. She considered that Regina held baby Henry in her arms merely a few days after he was born. And she was sure that the queen had promised to protect him, which was all Emma ever wanted her son to have. "I'm sorry, genuinely, for how things started between us. I really am."

"It's fine," Regina shrugged it off quickly. "The curse had to break eventually, I suppose."

And there, Emma thought, was progress: in the simple fact that Regina had accepted the way things were different in a good way.

"You're right. It did. I'm glad you think so, too."

"We're here," Regina said, as they both set their sights on the familiar house. "I'm going to poof us inside now. But you have to remember to _be quiet_."

"Yes, okay, I know; I'm ready."

* * *

"Em-ma," Regina moaned her wife's name, "_I love you_."

"I love _you_," Emma told her as she kissed her neck, the very same spot that was covered in bruises a few hours earlier. Now it was healed—and they were finally together. "I love you so much."

"But not in here," she cupped the savior's face, lovingly. They were on the bed Charlotte had been sleeping on, wrapped up in each other's arms. "Alright?"

"Okay," the older-savior agreed. "You don't want to find out what time-travel sex is like, huh?"

"Not particularly—especially not in Charlotte's room."

"I'm sorry. I just... I really missed you."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. And I fully intend on making up for our time apart once we are home. But doing _this_ here is a little too weird for me."

"I get it. But just know that I'm holding you to that promise."

"I wouldn't expect anything less. Nor is it a promise that will be difficult for me to keep."

"When we get home and Charlotte and Amelia go back to school, I'll take the day off and you and I won't leave the bed. How does that sound?"

"It sounds delicious."

"I'm not sure when we became one of _those_ couples," Emma pondered, as pulled her wife closer to her chest. "But we are one of them."

"What kind of couple are we?"

"The kind that cannot function without each other."

"I can funct-" Regina began to protest, but gave up the charade half-way through her sentence. "You're right; I fell apart without you."

"We do everything together."

"Is this a formal request for more time apart?"

"Hell no," Emma quickly blurted out. "I'm just saying… most couples who have been together for this long actively want to spend time apart and I don't even want to go to the grocery story without you."

"Are you suggesting we have become worse than your parents?"

"I think we might have without noticing."

"But I _specifically_ told you to just kill me if that ever happened."

"Sorry, no can do; we have kids, we can't just jump ship now."

"Well, that's a shame, isn't it?"

"And this whole fiasco is going to make it worse," Emma continued. "You'll be lucky if you can go to the bathroom without me. I'm going to make you sign out and take a pass like you're in the third grade."

"It really has been a fiasco, hasn't it?" Regina sighed, ending their banter. "Charlotte has been casually hanging out with the part of me that...I never wanted her to be exposed to this. I worked so hard to be better for all of you and now look at where we are."

"We've always been honest with her, Regina. It's not like she didn't know how things were between you and my mom. It's not like she didn't know her grandmother killed her other grandmother."

"Having her thrown in the middle of it is _completely_ different than us giving her a lecture on her rather complicated family history. It used to be an abstract concept and now it will always be real to her."

"She will be fine. She _is_ fine. I was so wrong about her, when I thought she was coddled. She's such a strong kid."

"What if she doesn't look at me the same way?"

"Hey, no, stop; that's impossible."

"It's possible. God only knows what '_I'_ have said or done around her while she's been here."

"Except that one of the first things Charlotte told me when I got here was how much she likes this version of you. You have clearly been nothing but good to her."

"Really?"

"Really," Emma assured her. "Look, I know at this point in time you're not in the best place. But none of us are, okay? And it doesn't make you less of a mother. You have always been meant to be Charlotte and Amelia's mom; just like you were meant to be Henry's mom. Our kids are fine. All three of them."

"You're right. I just never...I never wanted to think about these days again, let alone physically re-visit them."

_"Hey,"_ the two women looked up when they heard Charlotte's voice accompany a knock on the door.

"Speak of the devil," Emma greeted her. "Your ears ringing?"

"Can I come in?"

"I was wondering what was taking you so long to come cuddle with me, dear."

"I, uh, wanted to give you two time to, um, catch up or..._you know._"

"Yeah, I was _just _trying that, kid. But she completely rejected me. Can you believe that?"

"Oh my God," Regina realized _exactly _what her daughter meant. "It is beyond horrifying that you actively took that into consideration."

"I think it's sweet, Regina. What's beyond horrifying is that I have to wait until we go home for that to happen."

"Emma!" Regina scolded, and slapped her wife on the shoulder. "That's quite enough sharing."

"Oh, come on. Charlotte's all grown-up now."

"She will _never _be old enough to hear about this. Or do I need to remind you of the supremely disturbing amount of detail your own mother has shared with you since you are the same age and she believes you can handle it?"

"Excuse me, Mom-number-one-and-two," Charlotte interrupted them, "is the end result of this conversation that I can come in, or not?"

"Yeah, kid, please join us while your mother attempts to erase the last few minutes from her mind."

Regina laughed as Charlotte walked towards the bed. "Do you want to climb in the middle, my love?"

"No, you can be in the middle tonight," Charlotte told her. Emma looked at her daughter and nodded gratefully. If it had been any other night, Regina would've surely argued. But the thought of having her wife on one side of her, and her oldest daughter on the other was too appealing. "Can I ask you something, mommy?"

"Anything at all."

"Where were you, exactly, when Gold attacked you at home?"

"I was in your room. I found it too difficult to sleep in my bed without your mom. Why do you ask?"

"Because, the thing is...I had this dream last night..."

"_Charlotte_," the disturbed look on Emma's face made it clear she already understood exactly where the conversation was going. "I forgot about that."

"I had this dream," the teenager continued, "I was in my bed and Gold tied me down and tried to choke me. And when I woke up, I could feel it. It felt like it really happened. And now I'm wondering if, somehow..."

"You were feeling what I was?"

"Is that even possible?"

"Entirely possible," Regina informed her. "And, frankly, I can't say I'm surprised. You have my magic inside of you."

"I'm sorry, I should've realized," the savior frowned. "I told you it was just a dream. I should've known better."

"Well, technically, it was still just a dream," Regina assured her wife before looking back at Charlotte. "It was your mind's way of letting you know I was in danger."

"But it was the magic in me that did that?"

"Magic and a little bit of mother-daughter true love, I'm guessing?" Emma enlightened. "You know how I just sort of knew she was here today? Sometimes it's hard to explain this sort of an intense connection. It took me a long time to understand it, too."

"It's sort of cool though—isn't it? That I can know when something bad is happening with you guys."

"Yes," Regina smiled at the girl's enthusiasm, "except that I'm sorry he managed to hurt you, too. The whole point of all of this was to make sure he wouldn't get near you."

"But it wasn't that bad. I don't think I felt it as strongly as you did. It went away as soon as mom sat with me."

"That's because you have true love with her, too. So, she could make it better."

"So as soon as she came near me, her magic made it better?"

"Magic and true love—we've got a lot of it to go around, dear."

"It's cool," Charlotte repeated. "This family is really cool."

Emma looked at her wife with questioning eyes, and received a nod to continue in response."Can we ask you something now?"

"Sure."

"When you first got here, what happened? And how did you know it wasn't right?"

"We ended up at the wishing well," Charlotte began, as if she rehearsed what she was about to say. "Amelia was crying that she was tired so I carried her and she fell asleep in my arms. It started raining when I got to Main Street so I took a break and waited under one of the store awnings. Mommy...you...you just came over and started talking to me but it was like you couldn't even see how much I look like you. You asked if we needed help and I brought up mom and it seemed like her name alone made you mad."

"I'm sure my name _did_ piss her off after what just happened to her mom."

"But you took us to the station, anyway. You carried Amelia yourself. When we got there mom kept looking at you like she didn't trust you and you kept calling her _Sheriff Swan_ and it was just _so_ weird."

"I'm sorry, Charlotte—she didn't trust me, but I wish you didn't have to know that."

"You two weren't the worst part. You clearly weren't happy with each other but mom still came back to the house and you both took care of us. It was everyone else that freaked me out. The first time we went to the apartment, Pop pulled his gun out. Nan could barely form sentences she was so out of it. And Henry was such a brat."

"No," Regina stopped her, "don't say that about your brother."

"But he was mean to you. He called you Evil."

"I lied to him."

"So, what?"

"You don't always have to defend me. I'm not perfect, especially not here."

"I don't care. You were never evil. You didn't deserve to be treated how all of them treated you. You can't downplay it because I saw it for myself."

"That's true, kid—what you're saying is definitely true. But Henry is in the middle of all of this chaos and he's just trying to understand."

"You're defending him?"

"All your mom means is that you're going to have to cut him a little slack. Because he's having a hard time, and you know it's only about to get worse."

Before Charlotte had time to answer, a picture-frame went flying off a shelf and landed on the floor; the glass shattered into pieces.

"What the hell was that?" Emma asked, as she jumped up from the bed. She stood in front of her wife and daughter, determined to protect them. "Hello?"

"It just fell, mom."

"Things don't fall over by themselves,"she said as she searched the room.

"Emma?" Regina looked to her for direction and put her arm around Charlotte.

"It's alright," Emma promised her. "But maybe you two should get out of here."

"Wait—mom—stop—I think I have an idea about what's happening right now."

"You do?"

"It's just a guess but," Charlotte snapped her fingers and when she did, it became clear: the sight of their younger selves standing in the middle of the room, Regina hanging off of Emma. "That's what I thought."

"Wait," younger Emma said, as she looked around the room feigning confusion. "This, uh... this isn't the bathroom."

"Shut up, Emma, they'll hear you."

"Uh, nice try, but I'm pretty sure it's a little late for that considering you knocked shit off the shelf and busted us."

"How long have you two been in here?" Older Emma asked, taking an entirely irritated tone. "You scared us."

"Hmmm," the intoxicated Regina considered, "long enough to know you're not getting any tonight."

"Am I drunk?" Older Regina asked, clearly appalled by the vision of herself. She covered Charlotte's eyes with her hand. "I'm completely drunk right now."

"Mommy, stop," Charlotte protested, as she squirmed out of her mother's grip. "I've seen drunk-people before."

"You've never seen me drunk and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Seriously though?" The older Emma scolded. "You let this happen? How is this helpful to anyone?"

"It's _not _her fault, stop," Regina jumbled her still-slurred words. "Emma is mine. Leave her alone. She's my wife."

Everyone in the room fell silent at the possessive nature in which she spoke of her supposed enemy.

"Why the hell are you wearing the trigger?" Regina yelled at her older-self, when no one else spoke. "Why would you do that? It doesn't make sense."

Once again, no one replied to her.

"Tell me why you proposed with that?" She tried her luck with future-Emma. "Why would I wear the trigger on my finger every single day?"

"We can't tell you," the older blonde finally managed to respond. "It's for Charlotte's own good."

"Why? It's _my _trigger and she's _my_ daughter."

"Not yet," older Regina told her, addressing herself directly. "One day she will be."

"No, now. She looks just like me. She is... and Amelia, too."

"She's right," Charlotte intervened, her voice dripping with sympathy. "I am her daughter, even now."

"See, she loves me; _please _let me keep her. She is mine. Emma is mine. Amelia and Henry. They're mine."

"Someone needs to get her to bed," future-Emma instructed. "Should I do it?"

"No, I can handle it," younger- Emma insisted. "I'm sorry that we um, interrupted, or whatever. Goodnight."

The younger pair exited the room without another word.

"Are you alright?" Charlotte asked her shell-shocked mother.

"I'm fine, sweetheart."

"What are you thinking?" Emma pressed. "You're thinking something."

"I'm only wondering if it's selfish to want Amelia to sleep in here tonight," she changed the subject, signifying she wanted it dropped altogether.

"Why would that be selfish? I'm totally sleeping in here. She should, too."

"Because I'm afraid we'll wake your sister up bringing her in here. And it's selfish of me to want to wake her up to make myself feel better."

"I'm pretty sure Amelia can sleep through anything, Regina. I can get her in here without waking her up."

"Do it, then? I want all of my girls in this bed tonight."

* * *

"She's _my_ daughter, Emma," Regina continued ranting when Emma set her down on her bed. "She looks just like me, doesn't she?"

"She does."

"She should be with us."

"You know that's not true. You know she needs them."

"Henry's _my_ son."

Emma tried not to be offended at the continuous use of 'my' and not 'our.' Regina was drunk and Emma was sure she didn't mean it the way it was coming out. Besides, Emma had been included in the list of things that Regina felt ownership of. She didn't know why she found that so damn endearing.

"Yes, he is your son."

"And he's never with me, either. I'm always alone. I've been all alone since my mom killed Daniel."

"Those days are over," Emma promised her. "Can I help get you into your pajamas?"

When Regina nodded, Emma carefully lifted the brunette's shirt over her head and then managed to gracefully remove her leggings. "One second," she instructed—as she got up to go retrieve a pair of pajamas.

Emma rummaged through the closet—but when she turned around, she was face-to-face with Regina, who had managed to somehow get her bra off and stood in nothing but her black underwear.

"I'm cold," Regina told her.

"Yeah," Emma tried her best not to stare. She tried her best not to think of the feeling of their intertwined tongues. She tried her best not to think of the image of future-her assaulting future-Regina's neck. She tried not to think of how much she wanted them to be in the very same position. "That's because you're naked."

The savior handed Regina her pajama shirt. Regina quickly put it on, walked back to the bed and got under the covers.

"I think you forgot something," Emma said as she followed, still holding pajama pants.

"No pants," Regina rejected the idea. "It's hot."

"You literally just said you were cold."

"A queen reserves the right to change her mind," she dramatically stated. "Are you getting in, or what?"

Emma got in without further argument, and reveled in the feeling of Regina's bare legs against her own. "Speaking of your former title, I want you to remember tomorrow that you promised you'd show me those queen outfits of yours."

"I'll remember. But there's a lot to show you."

"Right, because you're like super old… so there are a lot of years to cover."

"I'm younger than Neal," Regina spat out. And Emma was sure she detected an entirely unnecessary, but still slightly amusing, hint of jealousy.

"Gross, don't remind me of how old he is."

"There are a lot of outfits, Emma."

"Well, good thing we have a lifetime together, then. I'm sure we won't run out of time, or anything."

"We have a lifetime," Regina repeated. "Yes."

Emma held Regina in her arms the same way she had seen future-her do it. She could only assume it was a position that brought them both comfort.

"What's the trigger?" She asked, though she was genuinely afraid to know the answer. "And why are you so upset about it?"

"You're going to be mad."

"Why?"

"It's...a trigger that...sort of... resets the curse but destroys the town."

"Would it kill Henry?"

"No."

"But it would kill everyone else? Besides you two, I'm assuming?"

"Yes."

"Where is it?"

"Far away, in a safe spot."

"Except that it's also down the hall on your finger."

'Why would you propose with it?"

"I have no idea."

"You proposed with a murder weapon. I don't get it."

"I don't get it, either."

"You're mad."

"I'm actually not."

"But, why?"

It was a valid question, Emma knew. And maybe she should be mad. Maybe she should be, at least, disturbed that the woman she held in her arms had a tendency towards homicide. But she wasn't disturbed—and she was pretty sure that the older woman, her wife that slept down the hall, was anything but homicidal.

"I guess because you've had a way out for 28 years and you never used it."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"I mean that you could've 'abort mission' the second I showed up here. You basically could've nuked the town and gone back to your home with Henry, right? Snow White, Prince Charming, the Savior...we all would've been dead?"

"Fairy-tale land is where I grew up, but it is not my home. Nor would I want to take my son there if I had any other option in this world."

"Is Storybrooke your home, then?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I have a home."

How much they had in common rested in that statement. Neither one of them had ever found a place to truly call home—until now. "I'm not mad."

"I'm tired—today was long."

"Close your eyes, then."

"Will you leave when I do?"

"Of course not. I'm not going anywhere."

"Emma," Regina mumbled into her shoulder, "_I'm-gonna-love-you_."

"Yeah," Emma accepted the statement as an irrefutable fact. "I'm-gonna -love you, too."

Except that she was painfully aware the future-tense no longer applied.

She wasn't just going to love this woman sometime in the distant faraway future.

She was quite sure she already did.

* * *

When Emma woke up the next morning, she was overcome with a feeling of guilt.

And she couldn't quite place her finger on why. She didn't know where it was originating from.

Maybe it was from the way future-her had looked at her last night. The same way she had looked at her since she arrived: like everything that was wrong with the world was her fault.

She wandered downstairs to clear her mind—she wanted, just for a minute, to be alone. And she was sure it would be a while before her Regina woke up. She wouldn't let Regina wake up to an empty bed—she would make sure she got back upstairs before that happened.

But, for now, she made her way into the study—the fireplace wasn't on, but the room smelt like ash and smoke. It was relaxing—she sat down on the couch and closed her eyes.

She wasn't sure how long she had been there or if she had fallen back asleep when she heard the door open. She looked at the person before her with all sorts of mixed emotions.

"So," the older Regina Mills stood in front of her, "how hung over am I?"

"That, I'm afraid, remains to be seen."

"Ah, I'm still sleeping then."

"Yeah—you'll probably be asleep for a while, if I had to guess."

"Things were very chaotic yesterday and I didn't get the chance to thank you."

"Thank me?" Emma scoffed. "For what?"

"For bringing me here; I was certainly not in the best condition."

"I gave you a ride. Anyone could've done it."

"Well, it was the most important car ride of my life. And you handled my sudden and dramatic arrival in your office quite well."

"That's a first, I guess."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm useless and naive and ignorant. And I, apparently, don't handle anything well. At least not now."

"Why would you say that? Did I tell you that? Past-me? When I was drunk? Are we fighting?"

"No," Emma answered. "It was _your precious wife _who told me that."

"She did?" Regina asked, as she sat down next to Emma on the couch. "Why did she say that?"

"Because she hates me. And I'm not sure I like her very much, either. She just assumed I was the one who got you drunk last night. I didn't even see you finish the bottle of wine by yourself. And it's not even like it's my place to tell you what to do. I don't think you would've listened to me."

"Emma," she sighed. "You are way too hard on yourself. And I mean that literally in this case."

"I know I haven't exactly handled myself perfectly with you or with Henry or with..."

"Stop it," Regina interrupted. "I never thought I'd get to say this to you and have it really sink in. So, I need you to listen to me...alright?"

"Okay."

"You are doing the very best you can right now. I need you to understand that. You think you mistreated me, you think you could've done more, you think you should've figured it all out sooner. But that is ridiculous. You have handled so much in the last year."

"I was a bitch to you."

"Yes, and I tried to kill you."

"I don't hold it against you."

"I don't hold _anything _against you."

"Not even the whole Archie thing?"

"Especially not the whole Archie thing. My mother framed me with the intention of making it all the more painful. She specialized in targeting those I care about most."

"Henry."

"Yes, Henry. But also you."

"That doesn't make sense. You didn't care about me then."

"I suspect she picked up on something that I didn't yet know was there."

"You cared about me?"

"You gave life to my son," was the only explanation. "Do you remember when you first met my mother? When you fell through the portal?"

"Of course, I do. She made, uh, an interesting first impression."

"You told her that we shared Henry. You told her it was 'complicated' between us."

"I did."

"Well, that was the moment she figured out how to break me. She set out to make it more complicated. She set out to drive us apart because she just knew the same way she just knew about Daniel. It wasn't your fault—you couldn't have stopped it."

"But I still let it happen. I got pissed at you for letting Cora manipulate you but she manipulated me just as much."

"You were sober last night, weren't you? When you two were watching us?"

"Yeah, I was."

"Then you have to see that none of this matters anymore—right?"

Emma wanted to respond, but before she could open her mouth, future-her came bursting through the doorway.

"Jesus, Regina… you scared the shit out of me; I woke up and you weren't there. I thought we agreed to a hall-pass system. Did you think I was kidding? I wasn't. I want to know where you are."

"Everything is fine, my love."

Younger Emma felt the older version of Regina reassuringly put her arm around her shoulder. And she watched her older self frown at the gesture.

"What are you even doing in here?"

"We're just talking."

"But why are you talking to _her_?"

"Why are you being mean to my wife?" Regina answered with a question.

"Uh, no offense …but she's not your wife."

"Oh, she isn't? So, then, I take it you don't care about the younger version of me that's upstairs? That's interesting, since you seemed _very_ concerned about her drunken well-being last night."

"Of course I care about her."

"So then, like I said: you were mean to my wife."

"She deserves it," older-Emma reasoned. "_I_ deserve it."

"That is absurd. You have to let go of this guilt. I don't understand why you still feel it."

"I was horrible to you for so long. I wish this version of me didn't exist."

"If this version of you didn't exist, then _we_ wouldn't exist," Regina snapped. "You know as well as I do what happens next. This version of you does a lot of good. This is the version of you that saves me, saves Storybrooke and gets on that boat."

"You save Storybrooke, too."

"That is _so _not the point and you know it. Now, apologize."

"To myself?" Emma raised an eye-brow as she looked at the woman in her wife's arms. "You want me to apologize to myself?"

"That's correct."

"Come on, baby, you cannot be serious."

"Do not 'baby' me to get out of this. I am very serious. I will not tolerate anyone calling the love of my life useless or naive or ignorant."

"Fine," Emma gave in, accepting her defeat. "I'm sorry."

"For what, dear?"

"_Regina_."

"How about this: I'm sorry for beating myself up over something I had no control over? I'm sorry for dwelling on a past that is nothing in comparison to the wonderful future I have waiting for me? I'm sorry for wishing I could re-write the very history that led me to my beautiful family?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, for all of that."

"Thank you."

"You're really annoying sometimes," Emma told her wife—though it was quite obvious what she really meant to say.

"Yes," Regina nodded in understanding. "I love you, too."

"I'm going to make breakfast, okay? Please don't...don't take too much longer?"

"I won't."

"So," Emma looked at Regina, when the older-version of herself left the room. "I guess you wear the pants, huh?"

"I suppose you could say that. But did you really expect otherwise?"

"Not at all."

"In any case, I think I proved my point. And I hope you got it, too. There's no room for guilt here."

"What boat were you talking about? You said I get on a boat?"

"I can't tell you."

"Of course not," Emma mused. She was getting sick of the lack of answers—or the random pieces of information she had. "A boat, a trigger-turned-engagement-ring that can destroy a whole town, and us saving Storybrooke. I think Neal's fiance is somehow involved. But I _definitely _don't get it."

"Would pancakes make you stop thinking so hard about it? Because I'm certain my wife makes them just the way you like."

"It's worth a shot."

* * *

Regina woke up to a throbbing in her head worse than she had ever experienced. Before she could open her eyes fully, it all came flooding back to her.

And despite how much pain she was in, she jumped out of the bed with ferocity and determination.

She ran down the stairs so fast that she was dizzy.

But she didn't care.

At that moment, she only cared about one thing.

She nearly crashed into a vision of blonde in the hall and she steadied herself on the woman's shoulders. She was happy to ascertain that it was _her_ blonde—the only person she wanted to see right now.

_"Emma." _

"What's wrong? Are you alright? I was just coming up to check on you. I didn't mean to leave you, I just thought I should let you sleep it off."

"Did I ruin it?" She asked panic evidence in her voice. "Did I?"

"What do you mean?"

"This," Regina clarified, as she pointed between them. "Did I ruin it?"

"No," Emma smiled warmly at her as she recognized her meaning, "of course not."

"But I'm so embarrassed."

"There's no reason to be. We've all be there."

"Charlotte saw me," Regina recalled before looking down and discovering something equally as shocking. "I'm not even wearing pants."

"I'm pretty sure that of all the traumatic experiences Charlotte had this week, you being drunk doesn't break the top ten. And as for the pants, you told me you were too hot to wear them."

Before Regina's mind caught up to her actions, she sought out Emma for comfort—she barreled into the blonde's arms and rested her head on her shoulder. "But _still_."

She waited to be rejected—to be pushed away like always. But instead, Emma gently rubbed her back.

"Seriously, you're over-exaggerating in your mind."

"I certainly hope that is the case."

"Besides, the whole night wasn't bad, was it?"

"It wasn't," Regina perked up as she remembered. "You kissed me again."

"Oh, damn it."

"You didn't want me to remember that?"

"Only because I was hoping you might need a reenactment."

"Maybe I _have_ forgotten, after all."

"So, basically," Emma laughed at her willingness to play along, "what happened was that you were so goddamn adorable that I couldn't stop myself from grabbing and kissing you just like this."

Regina happily allowed Emma to push her up against the hallway wall and kiss her.

"So much for waiting until we get home." Charlotte said, as she walked down the stairs and right by them. "I knew you two wouldn't last twenty-four hours without one of you taking your pants off. Didn't really think it would be mommy though. Who made pancakes?"

When the two women pulled apart looking like they had been caught red-handed, Charlotte gasped. "Wait, you're not _them?" _

"Oh, hey, kid."

"Excuse me, but since when are _you two _making out?"

"Since your birthday," Regina admitted. "Sorry."

"_Seriously? _You made out on my birthday?"

"Can you not gloat about it?" Emma requested. "Please?"

"Um, this is supposed to be the height of your hatred for each other and it took you less than two weeks to start making out. You really want me to not gloat about that?"

"Look, uh, do you think we could keep this between us?"

"You want me to not tell them? No way, I don't keep secrets from my moms. I told you my family doesn't keep secrets."

"Is it _really_ a secret if your moms are also the ones asking you to keep it?"

"You're finding loopholes so that I won't feel guilty about lying to them."

"You know...what Regina...what your mother said to you...she said you would never have to know what it's like to not be loved, right?"

"So?"

"So Regina and I know what that's like, to not be loved. And I'm so beyond happy that my...that _our_ kids never have to experience that. But right now...that's where we still are...we're still in that place."

"Of not feeling loved?" Charlotte asked.

"Yeah," Emma admitted. "But this feels like our chance. And all I want is time for the two of us to figure this out without having to answer to anyone. Our future selves, included."

Regina's heart soared at the speech, because it was confirmation that Emma felt the same way she did.

"If you guys want, I can ask my moms to have Nan, Pop and Henry over tonight. Then you can be alone at the apartment."

"Thank you for understanding."

"I just want you to be happy," Charlotte told them. "_Both_ of you."

And Regina realized that she was; she was ridiculously happy standing pant-less in her hallway, with Emma Swan holding her hand.

It made her entirely uncomfortable.

Because despite the fact that the evidence of her lasting happiness was standing right in front of her, she couldn't believe it.

Life had taught her that happiness would always be ripped from her.

Violently and without mercy.


	15. The Savior's Daughter

**Thank you so much for sticking with me for 15 chapters! :) I hope you'll enjoy this (how did it get so long?) update. I love and appreciate every single one of you. **

* * *

Regina sat up in bed sipping on the cup of water Emma left for her on the nightstand. The sun was shining through her window and she could hear the pitter-patter of footsteps downstairs.

She wondered what the hell time it even was—she assumed, by how rested she felt, that it was sometime in the afternoon. She had fallen back asleep mid-morning after Emma suggested it would be the best hangover cure. She had to admit that it worked: she no longer felt nauseous and the incessant aching in her head was gone.

But now she was over the whole resting thing; now she wanted something to occupy her mind besides the embarrassing events of the previous night.

The only issue was that she wasn't sure if she had the mental strength to move from the very spot she sat in. Leaving her room, after all, meant dealing with the group of people downstairs—which surely included the future-couple she had no desire to face alone.

As usual, it was Charlotte who, albeit unknowingly, solved her problem.

"Hey," the teenager came charging in—holding a fresh cup of ice water. "I brought you this."

"Hi, sweetheart—thank you," she traded the new glass for the old. "This one was getting a little warm."

"Where's mom?" Charlotte asked, as she looked around. "Uh younger mom, that is. I need to start numbering you guys or something. But I thought she was in here with you?"

"Emma went to the station for a bit," Regina informed her daughter as she sat up a little straighter. "She wanted to take care of a few things while I slept."

"And how are you feeling?"

"Mostly better," she admitted, honestly. She included the modifier because the humiliation she felt was still very much with her. Regina was all about control and discipline. Last night she had somehow allowed things to get out of control. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I was not exactly setting a good example for you."

"It's really not that big of a deal."

"And I'm sorry for earlier this morning, too. I seem to be letting my new-found emotions cloud my better judgment."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Charlotte insisted. "It's not the first time I've seen you guys make out and it definitely won't be the last."

"It must be nice to know your parents love each other," she mused. There was something about Charlotte that made her speak like this; made thoughts she would normally keep inside come slipping out as spoken word.

"It is nice, yeah."

"I always felt there wasn't love between my parents. It makes sense now, looking back...knowing that my mother didn't have her heart. I guess I couldn't understand it then."

"I know."

"Right—I don't know why I keep forgetting you already know everything."

"Sort of, yeah," Charlotte gave her a small, yet encouraging, smile. "But you can still tell me, anyway."

The young girl sat down on the bed and Regina tensed up in response. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing?" Her daughter stared at her with genuine confusion. "Sitting with you?"

"I'm not sure you should," Regina reluctantly told her. As much as she wished she didn't, she remembered the words she had heard the night prior. "Future-me seems quite concerned that I am dangerous for you to be around."

"When did she say that?"

"I probably shouldn't be talking to you about this; I'll make it worse."

"No it's fine," Charlotte pushed. "You can tell me."

"Last night when Emma and I were listening in on your parents, future-me was very upset about us spending time together."

"Oh," Charlotte processed the information with a nod. "And I bet my mom told her she was being ridiculous?"

"Future Emma?" Regina recalled. "She said...I believe she said that you liked me."

"She's right. I'm really glad I met this version of you, no matter what anyone else says. Besides, my mommy is completely over-protective. It's sort of her thing."

"She has a right to be, in this case, you know. I _am_ dangerous."

For the first time, Regina used the phrase with a negative connotation.

She used to pride herself on it: being dangerous meant that she was powerful, it meant people feared her. It meant she had become the woman her own mother had wanted her to become.

But now, looking into the innocent eyes of her daughter, she felt suddenly ashamed—she felt like maybe she shouldn't touch the girl with the very same hands that caused so much destruction.

"I personally really felt in danger during that game of tag we played or while I was painting your nails," the teenager joked. "Seriously, that was a close call."

"You sound so much like Emma sometimes," the resemblance caught her off-guard—it was in the girl's sarcastic, yet goodhearted, tone; it was in her inflection. "It's uncanny."

"Thanks," Charlotte recognized the statement as a compliment. "Do you remember what I said last night? That I'm your daughter, even now."

"Yes."

"I wasn't just saying that to make you feel better. If the time travel had gotten screwed up even worse and I somehow ended up back in time in the enchanted forest in the middle of your time as queen, I still would be_ your_ daughter."

"Let's just say I'm very glad that didn't happen."

"I don't know," Charlotte shrugged. "I bet I could've won you over even then."

Regina tried to mentally picture it: Charlotte storming into the palace in the middle of her darkest days. And maybe, she thought, just maybe the girl could've brought love back into a blackened heart.

"Have you actually read the book, dear? Henry's book?"

"Not until like a year ago but, yeah, I have."

"Why did it take so long for you to read it?"

"Mom wouldn't let me. She says it's a stupid, one-sided book."

"A stupid book that got her to break the curse."

"Eventually you convinced her it was harmless for me to read because it wasn't some big secret what happened."

"I see."

"It is a pretty stupid book," Charlotte reiterated. "It leaves out a lot."

"But the facts remain true."

"Yeah but I don't care what you did."

"Perhaps that's the problem here. Perhaps you should."

"Mom doesn't care, either."

"Emma should absolutely care."

"Well, she doesn't. And there's nothing you can do about it but try to accept that she loves you more than life itself. Seriously, don't you get it?"

"I'm afraid that I don't."

Regina hadn't spent much time thinking about falling in love again.

Mostly because she didn't think anyone could love her.

Not after everything that she had done. She had chosen her path and was prepared to suffer the consequences.

But every so often, when she allowed herself to consider the possibility of someone loving her, she pictured someone who wasn't yet aware of her past—who wasn't connected to it.

Emma Swan, her wife-to-be, was connected to the past in all the worst ways. It wasn't irrelevant—it couldn't be. She couldn't lie to her daughter and tell her that she got it—because, despite their growing affection, she still didn't fully comprehend.

"Whatever," Charlotte replied. Though the teenager was clearly frustrated, she also understood. Her tone was not angry, merely defeated. "You'll catch up."

"Yes."

"My moms agreed to have Nan and Pop over tonight and Henry is going to hang out with friends later so you'll definitely be alone for your date."

"I think Emma is planning to cook dinner," Regina shared. "That's what she said, anyway."

"She did? That sounds potentially dangerous."

"Why?"

"Mom can cook now but only because you taught her. And since you haven't taught her yet, I'd watch out for food poisoning—just a friendly tip."

"Oh, right, thanks—that's good to know."

"Can I help you get ready?"

"Will you get in trouble? With your parents?"

"My parents are currently a little busy obsessing over eleven-year-old Henry. They're, like, so happy to see him as a little kid again."

"Then I suppose I could use some help, honestly. I haven't done this in a long time."

"Does she make you nervous?"

"A little bit. She makes me feel like I did when I was younger."

"Like with Daniel, you mean?"

Regina's breath hitched at the sound of_ his_ name coming from her daughter's mouth. But she refused to let Charlotte see just how much it startled her.

"Yes, sort of like with Daniel," she confessed. "They are alike, in some ways. Emma pushes me like he did. Most people I can walk all over… but not Emma. I like that more than I expected to. But it's also very different—they're different."

"Well, you totally make her nervous."

"Really? She never seems nervous."

"Because when she's nervous she gets weirdly cocky and makes awkward jokes."

"Oh, that's what _that_ is? Nerves?"

"Yup," Charlotte jumped off the bed and started walking towards the closet. "What do you want to wear?"

"I'm not sure," Regina said as she followed.

"Let's see," her daughter began rummaging through the clothes. "Why do you only have work stuff in here?"

"What do you mean, dear?"

"Like, where are your other clothes? Casual clothes?"

"Those are my casual clothes."

"Um, no? Where are your jeans?"

"I have a pair of jeans in there somewhere."

"I guess this is what mom means when she says you used to be too up-tight, huh?" Charlotte asked as she continued her search. "Found them. You definitely should wear these."

"For a date?"

"You're not going to some fancy restaurant. You're going to the apartment. And mom will like them."

"I'm not sure what there is to like about an old pair of jeans."

"If you must know, she says your butt looks good in them."

"I see," Regina took the pants into her hands. There was no use fighting it—or questioning it. Charlotte had proved herself time and time again—and she would listen to the advice. "With what top?"

"This one," Charlotte instructed, as she pulled out a light-blue button up. "With your boots, yeah?"

"If you say so; I trust you."

"Does that mean I can do your make-up, too?"

* * *

Emma stood above the kitchen sink in the apartment. She was aggressively rubbing her sheer-white shirt with a cold, wet-wash cloth. Somehow, when she moved the chicken parmesan from the counter to the oven, she had managed to splatter red-sauce on her shirt.

It was probably the result of her shaking hands and her cluttered mind.

"Damn it," she muttered as she threw down the cloth in defeat. "This isn't coming out."

She turned around and was heading for the stairs when the familiar sight of purple smoke clouded her vision. Suddenly, Regina appeared looking as stunning, and as dressed-down, as she had ever seen.

"Hey—wait, what are you doing here?"

"Did I get the wrong time?" Regina asked, as she looked down at her watch. "I thought….."

"No, it's just...I was going to come pick you up. I was about to leave and then I got sauce on my shirt and I was going to change and now you're here and we're talking."

"Thank you for the update," Regina sassed with a smirk. "But we didn't say how we were meeting so I just assumed I should show up."

"Shit, I'm sorry. I, uh, should've made it clear. That wasn't very chivalrous of me."

"Chivalry is not necessary here."

"But you're a queen. Isn't that a thing? Don't I have to 'court you' or something?"

"If it's alright with you, I'd much prefer to follow the dating traditions of_ this_ world."

"Doesn't really matter, 'cause I'm sure I suck at both of them," Emma joked before looking Regina up-and-down for what she was sure was the fourth time. "You look ridiculous, by the way."

"Oh?"

"Ridiculous is a compliment," she clarified, realizing her date may have misunderstood.

"Thank you; Charlotte dressed me."

"She did a good job."

"She was confident that she knew what you would react positively to."

"As always, huh?" Emma said, as she gawked at Regina walking by her into the living room.

"She also accurately predicted that you would be staring at my ass."

"I'm not even sure if I should start with how bizarre it is that she said that or how amusing it is to hear you say the world 'ass.'"

"Either way, I guess I'll have to invest in another pair?"

"I support that whole-hardheartedly," Emma took Regina's jacket and hung it up in the closet. "You can sit down, dinner is heating up."

When she returned, she took the now-warm chicken out of the oven. Simultaneously, she watched Regina take her seat at the table—at Snow White's table. It had to mean something—something about moving on and new beginnings—that the brunette seemed perfectly fine with the location of their evening.

Emma placed Regina's plate down, hoping it would impress her, before sitting down herself.

"Was it Ruby or her grandmother?" Regina immediately inquired.

"What?"

"Who made this for you?"

"It's that obvious?"

"Well, Charlotte told me I teach you how to cook and this is not the work of a beginner."

"I wanted to cook for you; I really, really did. But then I realized I also want you to live. So, I kind of had a minor problem."

"It's good to know you value my life."

"Also, I didn't think a frozen dinner would be impressive. And that's about the only thing I can handle."

"Well, it looks delicious," Regina reported. "I sincerely appreciate your effort, Emma."

"You alright? You sound a little more robotic than usual. Did something happen at the house while I was gone?"

"No, it's not that—I slept all day," Regina told her. She looked hesitant to continue. But finally, she admitted the truth: "I'm nervous."

"Thank God you said that," Emma exhaled—and put her head down on the table, "because I'm literally about to vomit."

"Please refrain from vomiting on the dinner you didn't make. It would be quite a shame."

"Seriously though, feel my palm," Emma picked up her head and held out her hand. "It's so sweaty."

"Indeed," Regina took Emma's hand in her own. The former-queen began to gently rub her thumb in circles on the savior's palm. Emma stared at the motions—the gentle motions; it immediately made every anxious part of her relax.

"I don't know what we even have to be nervous about," she realized. "We know we end up together. So, I feel like we should enjoy this part."

"You're right."

"We should just regroup."

"Yes," Regina agreed, finally pulling back her hand. "I believe we can do that."

"Would you like some wine?"

"God no," Regina scrunched her nose at the thought. "Not for quite a while."

"Right, should've figured that," Emma laughed, realizing her mistake. "What about iced tea?"

"Yes," Regina held out her glass as Emma poured, "thank you."

"You're welcome."

Briefly, Emma thought about Tallahassee and what it stood for: the picture she had in her mind of paradise—with a family she could call her own.

"How was your day at work?" Regina asked her.

Fuck Tallahassee.

Regina was trying—she was awkward and uncertain but she was really, really trying. Trying to make them a team, trying to work backwards with what they had, trying to be the kind of partner that wanted to hear about her day.

She didn't need paradise—she had Storybrooke.

Fuck family feuds and everything that had happened in the past. Because that simple question (and the genuine concern behind it) was more than anyone had offered her in a long time.

And she was going to try, too.

"Actually, I have a pretty funny story..."

* * *

"Moms!" Charlotte nearly bounced in her chair at the kitchen table on Mifflin Street as she finished up dinner with her mothers, grandparents and sister. "I forgot to tell you that when we first got here, I went in the bug!"

"You did?" Emma excitedly questioned. "Seriously?"

"Yes!"

"And that, my dear," Regina teased, "is the closest your life was to_ truly_ being in danger since you left home."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, my wife: Queen of Drama."

"It didn't seem that bad, though," Charlotte continued, ignoring the banter she was accustomed to. "I was expecting it to be a lot worse, from the stories. I thought it was kind of cute."

"Ha!" Emma victoriously shouted. "My kid likes my bug. I knew there was a little bit of me in her somewhere."

"This betrayal hurts me deeply," Regina humorously brought her hand to her heart. "I'm not sure how I'll ever recover."

"Sorry, but it's true. And that car is very-mom. I could totally picture her picking you up for your first date in that thing and you making faces at her."

"Is this what vindication feels like, Regina? Because I want to remember this for the rest of my life—I want you to remember that our first daughter thinks my 'deathtrap' is cute."

"Why is it called a bug?" Amelia chimed in. "It's not a bug, it's a car. Is it because it's yellow like a bee?"

"That's an impressive guess, love."

"I went in the bug too," the younger girl matched her sister's bragging rights. "Charlotte used magic to make me a car-seat but she didn't ask first."

"_Hey_! I was only making sure you were safe."

"So, wait," Emma pressed, "did_ you_ like the bug, Amelia?"

"No, it smelled funny."

"Oh really?" Regina failed to hide her amusement. "And what, exactly, did it smell like?"

"I don't know—cheese."

"I think it was fast food," Charlotte told them. "That's what it smelt like to me, anyway."

"Yeah, that sounds about right. I used to eat all kinds of fast food in that car before your mother started sending me off to work with pre-approved lunches."

"Ah yes—your Big Mac days. I must admit I did enjoy ridding you of that habit."

"Nana," Amelia re-focused her attention on her completely silent grandmother, "why are you staring at mommy?"

"Oh, uh, s-sorry," Mary-Margaret stuttered as she looked down at her barely-touched food. "I wasn't…I didn't mean to, um..."

"Mommy," Amelia whispered, "Nana and Pop are_ both_ staring at you."

"It's because she's so pretty, kid," Emma tried to salvage the situation without causing too much of a fuss.

"But she's always this pretty and they usually don't stare."

"It's okay," Regina comforted her. "But thank you for thinking I'm pretty."

"If we're having a staring contest, I want to play. I'm good at them, mommy. I can win."

"No staring contests allowed at dinner," the savior reprimanded. "Focus on your vegetables."

"They started it. They're staring at mommy. And she's not even playing back. Someone should play back with them, those are the rules."

"Is someone a little cranky tonight?" Regina rubbed her daughter's back. "Because you seem to be forgetting all of your table manners."

"No," Amelia crossed her arms. "I'm not cranky."

"Uh huh, clearly," Emma placated her. "But you seem like you might need to go to bed."

"I'm not cranky!"

"Yup—alright, I believe you…but it's still bedtime," Emma scooped the girl into her arms. "Give your mommy goodnight kisses."

Regina stood up to meet them and happily accepted Amelia's kiss on her cheek. "I love you, my sweet girl."

"I love you—you better win the staring contest."

"I'll try my best. But your grandmother is quite the formidable opponent."

* * *

Regina listened intently as Emma shared some of the more violent details of her life as a bounty-hunter. She had to admit, she found it all very fascinating.

"I've never been in a fight," she thought out loud, realizing she was entirely impressed with just how tough the savior truly was.

"Uh, really? Because I vaguely remember you punching me in the face one time."

"Yes, well, that was a first for me. And apart from dealing with _you_, I never needed to fight. I used magic or I could order other people to do the fighting for me."

"If I knew I had magic growing up, I probably could've caused a whole lot more trouble than I did with just my fists."

"It's better that you didn't know. Often magic ends up pushing people away."

"And I did a pretty good job of that all on my own."

Regina knew exactly what Emma was referring to. She was quite familiar with abandonment issues, as she had her very own version of them.

But it was her turn to offer comfort—and although she was very new at it, she wanted desperately to be a success: "It wasn't your fault."

"It's kind of hard to believe that after it happens so many times."

"Your parents and Neal didn't want to leave you. Everything that happened was technically connected to who you are: the savior."

"That's a nice sentiment and all. But the foster families who sent me back didn't know I was some long-lost princess destined to un-curse a bunch of fairytale characters."

"That wasn't your fault, either. It was the system's fault and you weren't meant to be there in the first place."

"Yeah," Emma contemplated—and took a deep breath before continuing. "You saved Henry from that same system, you know—and you never left him. That's really comforting when I think about it."

"Are you concerned _I'm_ going to leave_ you_?"

"I'm worried that everyone is going to leave me, yeah. I didn't tell you this yet but, uh, my parents actually want to go back to the enchanted forest."

Regina tried not to panic at the prospect of Emma following the two idiots through some portal back to her personal hell. Because this moment was about Emma—she could focus on that. "And what do you think about the idea?"

"I think they're just getting to know me as their kid and they should be focusing on us being a family _here_."

"They probably just want you to see their world," she could hardly believe she was defending the actions her always self-centered enemies. "It is where you were supposed to grow up."

"But this is _my_ world and I feel like they should care about that," Emma vented. "Besides, I think one trip to Fairytale land was more than enough for me. I didn't climb a goddamn beanstalk and sword fight with Captain Hook just to end up going back there."

"You did work quite hard to return, yes."

"Besides, do you really think Henry would like growing up there?"

"I think that he would like it at first, maybe. But I think he would quickly find it's not as great as he thinks it is. I think he would want to come home."

"Yeah like as soon as he couldn't cook Pop-tarts 'cause they don't have toasters and Kellogg's products don't exist there."

"Nor do videogames or comic books."

"Right, exactly. So my parents can go if they want, but I'm not going with them."

"But they_ don't_ go because in the future they live in a house in Storybrooke and we have brunch with them every Sunday," Regina understood it was another ending they already knew. "Does it help you to know that?"

"Not really; the thing is I want them to stay because they want to and not because they feel guilty about me."

"Does it help you at all to already know that I never leave?"

"It sort of helps, yeah. But it's still hard to believe anyone would stick with me that long—even you."

"I would've thought your parents told you: once I set my sights on something I rarely let it go."

"Oh," the blonde stood up and began clearing the table, "you know, they might have mentioned something about that…"

Regina got up and brought the rest of the dishes over to the sink. She watched as Emma began to run water over them.

"Must you do the dishes now?" She asked and she wrapped her arms around Emma from behind.

"Well, I don't _want _to. But I was trying to be a responsible adult. I thought you might like that."

"What I would like is for you to do them _later_."

"But then," Emma turned around to face her, "whatever will I do now?"

For the first time, Regina initiated their kiss.

She kissed Emma with gratitude and support. She kissed her as if to say: we know how the story ends and this is how it begins.

And when she heard Emma moan her name, she pulled the blonde even closer.

"Can we go upstairs or somewhere else?" Regina requested, when they took a break for air. "I can't focus with pictures of your parents staring me in the face."

"You sure?"

"It feels like they're watching me. It's creepy."

"No, I meant are you sure you want to go upstairs?"

They weren't going to leave each other, Regina knew. Not now—or ever.

The feelings of abandonment could end. And it might as well start tonight.

"I am—but only if you do, too."

"Hell yes I do," Emma grabbed her by the hand and pulled her towards the staircase.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Mary-Margaret said to future-Regina, as she handed her dish over.

"Sorry?" Regina accepted it—and added it to the dish-washer. "For what?"

"I-I don't know."

"Then why, exactly, are you apologizing?"

"It felt like...like I started that whole thing with Amelia. I didn't mean to start anything."

"She's five," Regina lightheartedly explained, "things like that happen without it being anyone's fault."

"Right—yes, you're right."

"Besides, Amelia is half-Emma which means she's going to get cranky more than the average child."

"Hey now," Emma beamed as she walked back into the room, "I am unfazed by your insistence on blaming her crankiness on my side of the gene pool."

"Did she give you a hard time going to bed, love?"

"Nah, she passed out the second her head hit the pillow."

"You guys seriously are staring a lot though," Charlotte addressed her both of her grandparents. "It's not very subtle."

"I believe it's because they are still afraid of me," Regina reasoned. "I'm pretty sure they are just patiently waiting for me to snap at them."

"Oh," the teenager frowned, "right."

"We're not afraid of you," David confidently remarked.

"Speak for yourself," his wife rebutted. "I'm a little afraid."

"Personally," Emma grabbed her wife's hand, "I think they're just getting used to how cute we are together."

"Yes, well, our adorableness is rather disorienting."

"Who the hell are you two?" David nearly shouted at them.

"You don't remember?!" Emma dramatically stated. "Damn it, Regina, did you curse them to a life with electricity and plumbing _again_?"

"It might still be a bit too soon for them to appreciate curse-related humor, dear."

"But that's some of my best material."

"It's your _only_ material."

"Well, that's just not true."

"How can you talk about it so lightly?" David pressed, refusing to drop the subject. "That's the curse that made you grow up without us."

"I know it is," Emma replied. "But it's also the curse that gave me Henry and Charlotte and Amelia and Regina. Not to mention, it's the curse that kept me and my kids from growing up in that barbaric place. I have to say that I've made my peace with it."

"That's your home you're talking about."

"It's_ not_ my home, Dad. My home is standing right next to me," she looked at Regina, as if to emphasize her point. "That place was your home a long time ago. But now your home is here, too."

"So, we don't go back?" Mary-Margaret questioned shyly.

"No," Regina informed her. "But you visit often."

"We never get to live there again?" David was outwardly devastated by the revelation. "We never get to be home again?"

"Home is where all of us are together. And like Regina said, you visit. Portal jumping is not a big deal now. You can go back and forth whenever you want to. But you'd be surprised just how many people opt for Storybrooke. I mean we've got Wi-Fi and there are no guillotines—so it's pretty much a win-win. "

"Have ever you been to our land, Charlotte?" Mary-Margaret turned to her grand-daughter, including her in the conversation.

"No, I haven't."

"You don't want to see where your family is from?"

"It's not that I don't want to see it," she shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, Henry usually goes with you guys whenever you go. I just don't know if I'm ready."

"You'll go when you feel that it's right," Emma let go of her wife's hand, walked over to her daughter and kissed her forehead. "And not a second beforehand."

"Henry says it's pretty cool and that he'll take me when I want to go. He says we can go see all the castles. And he says everyone is super nice because of who we are. He says we're kind of a big deal there."

"Yeah, 'Prince Henry' comes back with an ego every time he goes there," Emma snorted. "It's pretty funny."

"I want to see it, Pop, but I'm scared."

"Why are you scared?" He asked his grand-daughter, sounding truly curious.

"It scares me how much my moms hate it. If it was so great they would go back too and they _never_ go there. So, why would I?"

"Emma..."

"I'm sorry," the savior snapped at her father. "I know that's where you fell in love with mom and I know it's where you grew up….but this is where I grew up and I don't have any affection for a place that hurt Regina so badly."

"No, I wasn't going to argue," he stated, as his eye-sight dropped to her hand. "It's your...your ring. And Regina's too."

All eyes focused on the wedding rings—both sets were glowing a bright combination of blue and purple sparks.

"What's happening?" Snow questioned, hypnotized by the sight.

"There are elements of true love in these rings," Emma told her parents.

"Just like yours, Snow," Regina added. "But this usually doesn't happen unless..."

"It usually only happens when we're, um, intimate."

"I don't understand," Regina stammered and her admittance of uncertainly startled her wife. "I don't know what's going on, Emma."

"I have a strictly hypothetical question," Charlotte spoke up in a meek voice.

"What is it, dear?"

"Could that happen if different versions of you were together?"

"Kid, what are you even talking about?"

"I, um...I wasn't really supposed to tell you."

"Excuse me?" Regina asked, with an appalled look on her face. She was not used to her daughter holding back from her.

"Try again," Emma demanded. "That was the wrong answer."

"Okay," the teenager took a deep breath. "You two...the other you two...well you are, kind of, on a date."

"No," Regina said, "we don't even like each other here."

"You didn't but you have been getting a long better since Amelia and I got here. You've been spending time together and talking a lot. Mom found out about stuff she never knew and you had to work together. I think you are starting to really care about each other and I guess you even kissed."

"Kissed?!" The couple exclaimed simultaneously.

"Yeah, apparently on my birthday."

"So," Regina realized, "that means you've kept this from us since then?"

"No, I swear, I only found out this morning."

"You should've told us the second you knew," Emma scolded her. "This isn't a joke. We are trying to keep everything intact and I don't even know if we're managing that much. Do you understand how fragile all of this is? I know you're smart enough to get that."

"You were both so sad when I got here and now you're happy just from being together for _two weeks_. That has to mean something. You're supposed to be together."

"But we're not supposed to be together _now_, damn it."

"Where are we?" Regina inquired. "On this date?"

"The apartment."

"Your mom is right, Charlotte, you should've come to us right away. Not only because of what we're dealing with at the moment but also because we don't keep secrets."

"I know—I swear, mommy, I just wanted to help."

"Well, congrats kid. Because you just helped us into an even bigger mess."

* * *

"Wait," Regina exhaled, as Emma managed to unhook her bra. There was something weighing heavily on her mind, something preventing her from enjoying the moment. "Wait a second."

"Sorry, we can stop. We don't have to do this if you changed your mind."

"No—no I didn't mean it like that. I just feel like I should tell you something."

"What is it?"

"I've never, um," she fumbled, wondering how to appropriately word what she wanted to say. "I've never..."

"Oh," Emma interrupted with a guess, "been with a woman? It's cool, I kind of figured."

"No—well, yes—that's true—but it's not what I was going to say."

"Whatever it is you can tell me; you can tell me anything."

Regina was half-naked—she was physically and emotionally exposed. Which is why it was peculiar to consider just how encouraged and safe she felt: "I've never done _this_ with someone that I truly care about."

"Daniel," Emma said—it was not posed as a question, but a rock-solid statement.

"I wanted to with Daniel more than anything," Regina sadly admitted. "But we were only ever alone in the stables or in the fields. He said we would wait until we had a proper place. He was going to build me a house—well, more like a cottage, I suppose."

"So, then, Leopold..."

"Yes."

"I fucking hate that barbaric piece of shit place," Emma muttered. "Fuck Leopold—fuck arranged marriages—cause I'm going to steal that damn time machine, go back there, and help you fuck everyone up myself."

"Please stop, Emma—don't get upset," Regina begged. It wasn't what she intended—wasn't why she had brought it up. "I just thought...this was something that people share beforehand. I thought it was something I should tell you."

"You're right," the savior softened. "Thank you, for telling me. And, seriously, we don't have to do anything if it's too fast."

"It's not too fast," Regina decided. "Maybe I haven't been given a lot of choices in my life. But this is a choice I _am_ making. I choose this future with you."

"I'm never going to take that choice for granted, alright? I'm going to take care of you."

"I don't need to be taken care of."

"Trust me, I know that—but I'm going to take care of you, anyway. And, I mean, you'll take care of me, too. Haven't you noticed that future-you is like this awesome matriarch?"

"You think so? I haven't spent all that much time around her."

"Yeah and it's _seriously_ hot."

Regina took the compliment as an excuse to pull Emma closer to her once more. She felt the warmth of Emma's hand confidently make its way back to her chest.

They were far too engulfed in each other to notice the purple cloud of smoke that appeared.

They were too eager and ready for more to notice the two other people now standing in the middle of the room.

"Stop it!" Future-Regina shrieked at the top of her lungs, causing the younger couple to part and look up. "_Stop, stop, stop_!"

"Both of you," Future-Emma stood directly next to her wife, "put your hands where we can see them."

"What the hell?" younger Emma snarled at them, as she covered Regina's naked chest with her own still clothed body. Regina frantically reached for her shirt. "We're, like, a little busy here."

"Yeah, that's exactly the problem," the savior's own voice spoke back to her. "You can't do this."

"Um, why the hell not? Just because your Regina isn't giving you any until you get home doesn't mean I have to suffer, too."

"I'm so sorry," the older-Regina held up her hand, revealing the still-glowing ring. "I really am."

"Why are they doing that?" the younger, now re-dressed, Regina asked. "What does that mean?"

"What it means, dear, is that you two believe you are each other's true loves."

"I'm still not seeing the damn problem here," a flustered Emma complained. "Isn't that what you wanted? For us to stop hating each other? You got what you wanted, right?"

"Sure," her older-self nodded, "except you could get Regina pregnant. And if you get her pregnant _now_...it wouldn't be with Charlotte. And you would completely screw up the entire timeline."

"Um, don't you have, like, birth control or something?"

"I'm afraid with magic it's a little more complicated."

"It's not that complicated," the younger Regina stated, now finally following their line of thinking. "Emma can get me pregnant with true love and a desire to have children, yes? And you're afraid that because we realized we have feelings for each other and we're thinking about how much we like Charlotte and Amelia being around…"

"This is insane," Emma muttered, as she grabbed Regina's hand. "Seriously, this is bullshit."

"No one sympathizes with you more than I do right now," future-Emma replied. "My number one rule is 'have sex with Regina whenever possible' and I just cock-blocked myself. If there was any way we could let this happen—trust me, we would."

"Fine, future and all-knowing me, you win. We won't have sex. But can you leave us alone at least? So you can maybe not ruin the rest of our night?"

"I'm sorry, dear. But I would much prefer if you two were under the same roof as us from now on."

"Why?" Emma refused to give in. "So you can make sure we don't sneak around like two teenagers?"

"We're not going to do anything that might harm Charlotte or Amelia," the younger Regina added. "We love them, too."

"I'm sure you wouldn't do anything on purpose. But there are things you don't know—and I just want to make sure you don't make any stupid mistakes."

"My wife's word is final: you've got five minutes and then you'll meet us downstairs and we will all go back home and stay there."

Younger Regina nodded at them, signaling that they understood. The older couple walked out of the room and down the stairs.

"Charlotte and Amelia are lucky they're so cute," Emma sighed, as she pulled Regina up. "Because I've never wanted someone so bad in my entire life and I am in physical pain right now from having to stop that."

"I'm quite disappointed myself."

"For the record, I was about to blow your mind."

"I sincerely look forward to the day you do."

* * *

Future-Regina stood in the hallway watching, from a safe distance, her past-self curled up in bed.

Her wife was updating David and Mary-Margaret about what had occurred and the younger Emma had angrily muttered something about needing a cold shower.

"Mommy," Charlotte tentatively approached her. "You're back."

"Yes, we are. All four of us."

"Please don't be mad at me. I'm sorry—please?"

"I'm not mad at you."

"Okay but you're disappointed and that's even worse."

"I should've known you would get involved in something like this," Regina put her arm around the girl. "You really are the savior's daughter."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you are willing to run into any situation to try to help. And while that is surely part of what makes you such a wonderful kid, it is also concerning. Because just like your mom, you often do things without thinking of the potential consequences for yourself."

"But I wasn't trying to help just anyone," Charlotte defended. "It's you guys. And I've been watching you two stare at each other longingly since pretty much the day after I got here."

"I understand that. I understand your motivation completely. But it's like I said, we are just trying to hold all of this together until we can leave."

"Are we leaving soon? I really want to go home now. I don't…I don't want to be here anymore."

"Yes—very, very soon. I just want to make sure the time travel has enough power to take all four of us. We've never done traveled with so many people before."

"Okay," Charlotte accepted, as she looked into the bedroom. "You interrupted their date, I'm guessing? Is that why she looks so upset?"

"She's upset and confused about a lot of things."

"She shouldn't be alone. I should go in there."

"No, you are not her babysitter."

"Maybe _you_ should talk to her."

"Honestly, sweetheart, I'm not sure that I would know what to say."

"You got mad at mom for being mean to her past-self but now you're doing the same thing."

"I'm not being mean; I'm just avoiding her altogether."

"That's just as mean, if you ask me. She's so desperate to know things get better and you barely look at her."

"How did you get so smart, huh?"

"I'm not sure. But you might have had something to do with it."

"Charlotte, I need you to promise you won't ever pull a stunt like that again, alright? If you're going to get all savior-y on us, we have to know about it first."

"I promise."

"You know, your mom has been waiting patiently for you to enter a phase where you lie to us because you think you know better than we do. She believes it's inevitable with teenage girls. Is that where we are, now? Because if it is, I would simply like to be prepared."

"That's not where we are."

"Okay, then we will blame this whole thing on the strange circumstances we are in and we will forget about it."

"I'm not getting punished? You're not grounding me when we get home?"

"Your mom and I feel it would be a little too weird to punish you for trying to set us up."

"Thank you," Charlotte kissed her on the cheek. "Now, will you go talk to her?"

"Yes," Regina agreed, knowing it was time. "I'll talk to her."


	16. Tomorrow

**An update for you, my dears! I must admit: I was overly emotional writing the scene between the two Reginas. So, I really hope you enjoy. I haven't had the chance to respond to some of the reviews from last chapter- but I hope to get to that tomorrow. **

**As always, let me know if anything is confusing. Any and all mistakes are mine from uploading at odd hours of the night. **

**Thank you so much. **

* * *

Regina was cocooned beneath her covers when she felt someone's weight press down on the bed.

She wished that it was Emma—any version of her, really. In that particular moment she would've taken past, present or future Emma Swan.

But she recognized her own natural scent too well—which was quite an odd sensation. She knew the person sitting on her bed was none other than her future-self.

"If you are here to yell at me," she said, without moving—without turning to face the future, "I would like to request we reschedule for tomorrow. I'm not quite in the mood."

Her emotions were too scattered for this—her half-naked form had been pulled from Emma's arms just an hour or so earlier. Her heart, her mind and her body were feeling things that hadn't been felt in years. And, truly, the last thing she needed was a lecture from a woman who was too far away from the present to even understand how she felt.

"Why do you automatically assume I am here to yell at you?"

"The two versions of Emma seem to have a rather volatile relationship. I can only assume the same will apply to us."

"You assume wrong," her older-self corrected. "And, besides, I think they've made their peace. I had to do a little meddling but I believe I managed to help both of them. "

"Well, then," Regina remained unmoved by the friendly tone, "there's always the fact that I still want to slaughter your_ 'mother-in-law._'"

"Ah, yes,_that_ minor detail."

"I want wrap my hands around Snow's neck," she said—as she dug her head into her pillow, "and watch as she runs out of oxygen."

"That's interesting…because you held her beating heart in your hand just a few weeks ago and you let her go. You let her walk off your porch and back to the apartment where she was keeping _your _son."

"Because," Regina angrily defended—finally sitting up and looking into her own eyes, "I would rather let Snow self-implode than have Henry hate me and blame me for anything else that happens around here. That's the plan."

"And how is that plan working out, exactly?"

"It has gone completely array since I learned that instead of destroying Snow's life I marry her daughter."

"Yes," the older Regina lightheartedly agreed, "I must admit that_ did_ put a slight damper on the revenge agenda."

"Stop, this isn't funny," she pleaded—because she couldn't handle humor being injected so easily into this subject. "It might be funny to you but it's not funny to me at all."

"I'm sorry… I know it's not. I guess I'm trying to be funny because… because I'm not sure you can handle what I _really_ think just yet."

"I can handle it," Regina insisted—she felt the need to look brave—to wear that mask-even in the company of her own self.

"I think that you showed Snow White the way out."

_"Excuse me?" _

"You showed her that her heart was dark—you showed her the evidence—you showed her she needed to change before it was too late. You saved her from herself."

"I did no such thing," Regina snarled. "I would never."

"If you truly hated Snow, you would've killed her already," her future-self stated matter-of-factly. "And, frankly, if Snow truly hated you, you wouldn't be walking around Storybrooke right now."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you didn't have magic when the curse broke," she was reminded. "The whole town wanted you dead and if Snow hated you so much she would've let it happen, despite what Henry requested. She easily could've made it look like it was out of her control. At the very least, they could've left you locked up—they could've let that damn wraith kill you."

"I'm not sure what it is you're suggesting to me."

"I'm suggesting that beneath it all, somewhere so deep neither one of you even realizes, there is still some semblance of a bond between you. It's not a coincidence that you keep saving each other."

"You are delusional."

"Sure," future-Regina appeased her, "if you say so."

"You are."

"We are the same person."

"We're _not_ the same person," Regina fought back.

"That's an interesting theory."

"We cannot be," she reasoned, "because you're ashamed of me and I'm, well... I'm utterly baffled by you."

"Wait a minute," her older-self lowered her voice and spoke noticeably slower, "I am _not_ ashamed of you."

"But you told your Emma that you didn't want Charlotte around me."

"Just because I don't want Charlotte to witness all of this madness...that doesn't mean I'm ashamed of the things I felt. Snow is connected to everything bad that ever happened in my life: Daniel's murder, my marriage to Leopold, mother's death. I do not invalidate my anger towards her nor does my love for Emma simplify years of an incredibly complicated and painful history."

"So, then," she was relieved, undeniably—relieved to know the truth hadn't been overlooked, "you_ haven't_ forgotten what she did to you."

"Forgotten? No, of course I haven't. Do you think that Snow has forgotten what I've done in the name of retaliation?"

"Apparently she has forgotten enough to play house."

"Oh, we're not playing," the older-brunette scorned. "This isn't a game. This is family."

"How can you refer to her as family _again_? How can you even stand it? Don't you see it, all of it, every time you look at her?"

"Believe it or not, now I see other things when I look at her. I see her dancing at my wedding. I see her at the hospital when Amelia and Charlotte were born. I see her helping us move Henry into college."

"And when she looks at you?" Regina asked. "What does she see now?"

"I suppose I cannot know for sure. But I think she merely sees her daughter's wife and her grandchildren's mother."

"I cannot fathom how you have forgiven so easily."

"Easily?" Future Regina mocked the very concept. "Who the hell said it was easy? It was not easy in the slightest. When Emma and I first started dating I bounced around between so many conflicting emotions. Some mornings I woke up convinced I wasn't worthy of her love because of what I did to her family. Some mornings I woke up convinced I couldn't be with her because of what her family did to me. It was a bit of a mess."

"You seem to have overcome all of that though."

"Yes—because Emma is _my _mess. And I would do anything for her."

Regina heard it loud and clear: the passion in her own, more mature, voice. The same passion she felt towards Daniel once, the same passion she felt when it came to protecting Henry.

"And Emma loves you, too?" She requested reassurance. "Without having changed you too much? I don't want to forget who I am or what I've been through."

"Emma never tried to change me—not ever."

"She didn't try to bring you over to 'the good side'?"

"Emma doesn't believe in 'good' and 'bad' sides in this family's case."

"And in this family's case," Regina swallowed once before she asked— "what is it that _you_ believe?"

"I believe that it was a war—a _real_ war," her future-voice shook. "It wasn't my war, at first. It was mother's war. It was her war with Eva and the society she grew up in. It was Gold's war, too—his war with himself. I tried to avoid it but I was surrounded—all of the time I was surrounded. It's not a justification but it is certainly what happened. I let it change me. But I have since learned—Snow and I _both_ learned—not to be forever defined by it. The curse was supposed to be an escape and a new start…but it was only when the curse broke that we all truly got our restart."

"I want a restart—and a restart with Emma sounds more appealing by the day."

"It's just around the corner now," the older women said—she lifted up her hand and placed it on the younger Regina's shoulder before continuing. "When I first came in here to talk to you… I couldn't help but notice….you were hiding under the covers like after a really bad night with mother: holding your knees to your chest, silently letting it all build up. I remember begging it to stop."

"As do I," Regina nodded—a shiver ran down her spine; she was certain they were both recalling the same memory—hiding from the mother who couldn't love.

"And do you remember the promise you made? During some of the more particularly violent nights?"

"Yes," she whispered—sure she could never forget. "I promised myself that my relationship with my own children would be different."

"I want you to know that I kept that promise."

"Yeah?"

"When Gold brought Henry to me, I was so glad he was a boy because I was certain I would just completely screw up raising a girl. I was petrified that history would repeat itself, that I would become her."

"In some ways, I feel like I have _already_ turned into mother."

"No…absolutely not. I have failed at so many things. But I am not my mother. I am a damn good mom."

Regina had seen it for herself—she had seen Charlotte and Amelia react to her—seen the way the children respected and loved and looked up to their mother. But there was something still bothering her: "you claim that I'm not my mother but yet you taught Charlotte and Amelia magic."

"Yes, I did."

"Amelia is five years old and she can already make herself invisible. I don't want my children anywhere near magic…it destroys everything. If you're not like mother, why would you teach them?"

"It is dark magic that destroys," she heard herself explain. "My girls don't have an ounce of dark magic in them."

"But that doesn't answer the question."

"I taught them magic because it's already a part of who they are. It is far more dangerous for them to _not_ know how to use it."

"Is it, though?"

"Yes and you can ask my Emma all about that, if you'd like. I also taught her magic once she realized she needed to learn to control her own power."

"The Evil Queen taught the savior magic," she tried to picture it. "I'm sure the two idiots enjoyed that."

"They weren't exactly thrilled."

"Is Emma any good?" She wondered. "With magic?"

"She's not half-bad. Though, I suppose, I am quite the biased judge in her case."

She wanted to smile, but there was still one last question she needed the answer to; one she had wanted, but lacked the courage, to ask her teenage daughter: "Does Charlotte know how to rip out a heart?"

"Are you insane? Of course she doesn't—that is just about as dark as dark magic gets."

"Good," she exhaled. "She seems very comfortable with magic."

"Inside the house she is. She practices it with ease around the family. But she's a nervous wreck about it the second she's in public. Everyone in this town is fascinated by our kids and that is a lot of pressure for a teenage girl to deal with."

"I would imagine so."

"You don't really have to imagine, do you?"

"No, that's true… I don't."

At eighteen years old, only two years older than Charlotte, Regina was the talk of the entire Kingdom: a young, unknown, bride brought in to replace a beloved Queen. She knew what it was like to be in the spotlight without fully understanding _why._

"Look, you don't have to worry about Charlotte getting addicting to magic, if that's what you're thinking."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Two summers ago we sent Charlotte to camp outside of Storybrooke—to this place in New Hampshire that Emma found. We thought it would be good for her to meet people from the 'real world.' She was nervous to leave home but she was so excited. She had such a great time—right up until the second to last week."

"What happened?"

"She went on a hike with some friends—one of her friends was walking a little bit ahead of the group when a rock fell off the cliff above her. Charlotte saw it and she stopped it mid-air—she saved her friend's life."

"In other words," Regina followed the story, watching her own lips move, "you're trying to tell me that Charlotte uses magic for good?"

"She does, yes….but there's more: right after this happened, she completely panicked because all these people witnessed her do magic. I mean, she didn't know how to begin to explain it to them. So, she erased their memories."

"She has good instincts."

"I agree. But that night she called home absolutely hysterical over the fact that she used magic on her friends. Honestly, I had never heard her so distraught. Emma and I got in the car and drove through the night to get to her."

"She came home?"

"She refused to stay—she said she couldn't trust herself anymore. And it took her weeks to get over it."

"But it wasn't her fault and she saved her friend."

"No, of course it wasn't her fault—and of course she was right to use the gift she was born with to help people. But she was so terrified….she couldn't see anything besides the 'mistake' she made. And do you want to know why?"

"Why?" Regina pressed for the answer.

"Because Charlotte understands that magic has consequences. Amelia will understand that, too. They've both had that lesson drilled into their heads since they were born. And they have a family history full of the only proof they'll ever need to back it up. Because when they asked why they only have one set of grandparents, they were told magic has consequences."

"But aren't you afraid for them, even so? Aren't you afraid of how powerful they are?"

"I am afraid for them every single day," the mother acknowledged. "I never want them away from me. It drives everyone mad, really. But I know that Emma and I have done a good job—I'm learning to trust that they are capable of making the right decisions no matter where they are."

"You have a beautiful family," Regina finally felt comforted by the words.

"As Charlotte aptly pointed out, they're your family too."

"I still can't believe you fell in love with the savior."

"Well, in fairness, so did you."

She considered the accusation—and it wasn't the first time. She had thought about it earlier that very night, as she sat across from Emma at the dinner table. "I do care about Emma deeply but love…love is…I'm not sure."

"I know what I look like when I'm in love with Emma Swan. And _you_ only took two weeks to do it. At least I had the common decency to wait it out a_ bit _longer."

"If, theoretically, I was in love with her…could you promise me that she's worth it?"

"Completely—she's worth _all_ of the past horrors."

For a moment, Regina began to believe that, maybe, those horrors were over. But then, she remembered: "Am I really going to almost die, twice?"

"You are—in a twenty four hour time period, no less."

"Will it be painful?"

"It will be the worst pain of your entire life—physically and emotionally," she observed her own face tense at the memory she couldn't yet access. "I tasted death; if I think about it for too long, I can still taste it."

"Oh," she was frozen by the fear she felt…because she couldn't imagine pain worse than what she had already lived through. "That's just great."

"But Emma is there, in the aftermath. And she...well, I mean, she makes it bearable."

"Is this going to happen soon? Is that why you're so eager to get out of here?"

"I—uh—it's…" Her older-self stumbled through her words, searching for a way to explain. But, she was saved by the entrance of younger=Emma.

"Hey," Emma approached them—in her pajamas and still-wet-from-her-shower hair. "Is everything alright in here? Is everybody getting along okay and everything?"

Although the question was posed to the room, Emma stared directly at the younger Regina making it entirely clear who she wanted to answer.

"Yes," Regina told her. "Everything is fine."

"I do so enjoy watching you be protective of me, dear," the older woman smirked. "There is nothing sweeter. For future reference, I pretend I don't like when you fuss but I secretly love it."

"_Hey,"_ Regina joined in the banter—trying to signal to everyone that she was perfectly fine. "Don't give her a cheat-sheet!"

"On that note, I will leave you two love-birds alone."

"Does that mean you're permitting me to sleep in here?" Emma asked, ignoring the use of the 'l-word'. "You're not going to lock me in another room, or something equally as dramatic?"

"No, dear—I think it would be fine if you slept in here. But just remember: no funny business."

The younger couple nodded—"we promise," Emma added. And when the older Regina left, Emma wasted no time climbing into bed. "Hi."

"Hello," Regina greeted her—the words _in love with Emma Swan_ still fresh in her mind.

"Did you miss me?"

"I plead the fifth."

"Wait," Emma laughed, "do you remember when Charlotte tried to plead the fifth when she first got here? When I asked her who her parents were?"

"Yes—she's creative, you do have to admit."

"See, right now, I'm trying to remember all of the cute things about the kids since I still want to jump you."

"You heard the rules: no funny business."

"Just wondering, since when do _you_ follow the rules?"

"Emma…"

"Yeah, yeah, okay. I know," the blonde agreed, as she laced their fingers together. "I'll stop."

"Thank you."

"So, what'd you and future-mommy-Regina talk about?"

"We discussed a lot of things."

"Did she say anything about me?"

"She said that you're worth it."

"She did?"

"Are you planning on sleeping with soaking wet hair?" Regina answered with an entirely unrelated question. "Your wet hair is going to be in my face."

"I'm seriously too tired to dry it. Besides, I'm sure you'll enjoy the giant helmet of curls I'll wake up with tomorrow morning."

"You are a huge mess."

"But I think I might be your mess," Emma meant it as a joke. But Regina nearly melted—it was the same phrase her future-self had used.

"Yes, Emma…I believe you are."

* * *

When the older Regina left the younger couple's bedroom she bumped directly into Mary-Margaret who seemed to be pacing, aimlessly, through the hallway.

"I didn't even realize you were still in the house, dear."

"Yes…we're just, David is downstairs—and, uh, sorry."

"You _really_ must stop apologizing unnecessarily." As much as Regina was, on some level, enjoying watching the woman squirm uncomfortably in her presence, she was growing tired of the tension between them. "I think you did it at least three separate times today."

"But what if it is?" Mary-Margaret countered, her voice growing a bit steadier. "Necessary?"

"Ah, I take it this is about my mother, then?"

"My heart is black."

"For now—yes, it is. But not to worry, soon enough we will all have much bigger problems."

"Um, I'm sorry but…is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes…though I suppose I can see how it wouldn't, from your point of view."

"All of these vague references to some sort of impending doom from you and the future version of my daughter…it's a little disconcerting."

"I understand," she conceded, realizing that she was only making things worse. "But, honestly, I just had an incredibly emotionally draining conversation with my grieving and confused past-self and I could _really_ use a drink."

"I'll get out of your way, then."

"Actually, Snow, that was an invitation."

"To who?"

"Um—do you see anyone else in this hallway?"

"You want me to have a drink? With you?"

"Yes and if you could possibly wipe the horrified look off your face it might help us both."

"I don't get it."

"Well, I'm not trying to poison you, if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't…I wasn't going to say that…"

"David and I go for runs—you and I have drinks after dinner some nights," Regina explained the normalcy behind her request. "I think it started because we couldn't stand to be in the same room for too long without alcohol being involved —but now it's sort of a nice tradition. Plus, I thought it might even give you the opportunity to keep on staring at me like I'm a hallucination."

"You do seem unreal," Snow confessed. "But I'm moving closer to acceptance."

"You say that like my relationship with Emma is your penance for murder—as if you're sacrificing your daughter to the Evil Queen to absolve your sins."

"You do have to admit, it's a little bit poetic."

"Perhaps," Regina agreed. "But this _isn't_ poetic justice, Snow. It's just the way it is—it's just love."

"It's you in love with my daughter and my daughter in love with you."

"I'm afraid so."

"When Charlotte and Amelia first showed up, David was so terrified by the thought of Emma being with you. He thought you would hurt her or that you would be a bad influence."

"I know—I remember when he thought of all those things."

"I don't see it that way," her mother-in-law frantically explained. "He thinks I should, but I don't."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, because I know how you treat the things that you love, Regina. There is probably nowhere safer for my Emma to be than with you—if you really do love her, that is."

"Emma is always safe with me. And, yeah, I _really_ do love her."

"Okay," Snow White exhaled, "I think I will take you up on that drink, then. I guess the tradition has to start somewhere, right?"

* * *

Emma didn't know what it was, exactly, that pulled her out of her deep slumber.

Perhaps it was a nightmare—but if it was, she couldn't remember it.

All she knew was that she had a sick feeling—a feeling so strong it was causing her to sweat, despite the fact that it was an ice-cold Maine night and her hair was still damp.

She looked over at the unconscious form occupying the space next to her; she considered waking Regina up—she considered it for a few seconds before she concluded it was unnecessary.

Because she considered there was someone who could better assist her: the future Regina.

Future-Regina would know—she would surely have the answers.

Emma jumped out of bed and walked down the hallway. She realized she had no idea where the older couple was even sleeping. First, she silently stuck her head into Charlotte's room.

If only, she thought, she had been prepared for what she saw: Henry, Charlotte and Amelia asleep in the same bed. She remembered, then, that the kids had been hanging out—talking—watching a movie.

She knew she could stay and stare at them for the rest of her life—but her stomach was churning and she recalled why she got up in the first place.

She closed Charlotte's door and slowly made it to the end of the hallway. Once there, she entered Henry's bedroom; in the tiny twin-size bed, she found the married couple huddled together.

As quietly as she possibly could be, she knelt down next to Regina's side and nudged her shoulder.

"Go back to sleep," the brunette mumbled at the contact. "Love you."

"Regina, no, come on—please, can you wake up?"

"What is it, my love?" the half-asleep woman questioned, as she slowly opened her eyes.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm not your love. I'm the other one."

"Oh," Regina processed the statement. She glanced behind her—confirming that her wife was asleep, still spooning her. Then she looked back at the younger Emma. "What are you doing in here?"

"Can we talk? Somewhere else? Alone?"

"Is everything alright?"

"I don't know," Emma disclosed. "Can you just come with me? _Please_?"

"Certainly," Regina granted, as she untangled herself from her wife's grasp. "Yes."

When the two of them made it to the hallway, Emma was momentarily distracted by the sight before her. The older Regina was wearing nothing but a white, almost sheer, tank-top, and tan boy-short underpants.

"Okay, did you _seriously_ have to be half-naked? Are you trying to kill me?"

"This is how I sleep."

"You're obnoxiously beautiful. It's not even normal."

"Emma, sweetheart, I'm assuming you didn't wake me up in the middle of the night to hit on me?"

"No, sorry, I didn't," she tried to shake it off, "you just...uh, distracted me because I thought you'd be wearing more clothes."

"What is it that you wanted to talk about?"

"So, here's the thing…"

"Yes?"

"I need to ask you something."

"Go ahead," Regina watched as Emma stared directly at her, "you are starting to worry me."

"So," the savior finally began, "earlier you were talking about the timeline."

"What about it?"

"I was thinking and I realized that it has to _already_ be completely messed up. And you guys said that if the timeline gets messed up then we take the risk that the girls don't even get born."

"I don't think that's a question."

"The timeline is already messed up," Emma continued her rant. "I mean, it has to be because I'm not supposed to love you or want to be with you yet. And I'm not supposed to know that you're my true love. I'm supposed to help save the town and then I'm supposed to get on some boat and sail off to who-the-hell-even-knows-where."

"_Neverland_," Regina let the word escape her throat.

"Neverland?" Emma repeated it out loud. "Like, you mean, where Peter Pan lives?"

"That's the place."

"So, what you're saying is…after I help save Storybrooke, I'm going to Neverland and I'm going to meet Peter Pan?"

"You are. But we're not exactly his biggest fans."

"Really? He's a dick? I don't get it…what could possibly be in Neverland?" Emma pondered until she realized what Regina just pulled on her. "Shit, wait, you totally changed the subject on me!"

"It was worth a shot," Regina sighed, as she leaned her weight against the wall. "It works about fifty percent of the time with you."

"I want to know what happens next. What happens to me? What happens to my Regina when you two go home? What happens to _us_?"

"We are going to have to talk about that."

"Yeah, that's why I woke you up: let's talk."

"No, it needs to be all four of us."

"You can tell me. You can trust me."

"Oh, of course I can trust you. I trust you more than anyone."

"So, then, what's the problem?"

"I need my other-half. I can't do this without her," Regina stood her ground. "We have some rather complicated things to explain to you; she should be here, the past version of me should be here and we should definitely all be more awake."

"You can't even have a conversation without her?"

"No."

"God, has anyone ever told you two that you are, like, _really_ need-y?"

"You've been alone for your whole life. But now you need to get used to being part of a team. Because we are a damn good one."

"Fine," Emma accepted, sure this Regina was even more stubborn than her own. "But I hope you know I'm not going to be able to sleep."

"I promise you that we can talk tomorrow."

"_Tomorrow?" _A familiar voice spoke_. _ Emma turned to find her older-self walking towards them. "What's happening tomorrow, Regina? Are you trading me in for her?"

"Did we wake you up?" the younger blonde asked. "Did you hear what we were talking about?"

"Nah, I always wake up if she's not in bed."

"Which is unfortunate for her," Regina put her arm around her wife's exposed shoulders, "since I have a tiny bladder."

"Like I said," Emma rolled her eyes at the pair, before she gave up and walked away, "seriously way too need-y."

* * *

"What was that all about?" Emma asked her wife, when her past-self was gone. "What did she want?"

"She was asking me a lot of questions about the timeline. I told you one of us would catch on."

"Oh? Seriously? I'm kind of surprised that it was me, though."

"I'm not—you've always been a fast learner. And she seems to understand that we have a problem."

"Do you think she knows what we're going to do, then?"

"No—she's just confused. We'll talk to them in the morning."

"I really don't want to."

"Neither do I," Regina hugged Emma tightly for comfort, "but we need to go home. I want us to leave tomorrow."

"I know—it's just, they're in love already. They fell in love so fast, it's kind of crazy, right?"

"It's a little bit crazy, yes. It happened to them faster than it happened to us."

"They're going to fight us on this. I think that they might."

"They absolutely will not," Regina disagreed. "Because they'll do anything for the girls. They want this family and they're not going to risk it. I can see it in both of them."

"I still feel like shit about it though," Emma mumbled. "I just hate seeing how it could've been if we got together earlier."

"I know. But we have to."

"Yeah," Emma briefly kissed her on the lips. "We have to."

They walked back to Henry's bedroom, hand-in-hand.

* * *

Charlotte stood with her ear pressed against her bedroom door.

For a moment, she wondered if she was still asleep.

But she knew that she wasn't.

Truthfully, she didn't know why she hadn't realized it sooner.

She had heard it in their voices when they first found out about the date—her moms were panicked and scared.

She should've known there was more to the story.

"_Charlotte?"_ Henry asked, startling her to her core. She had no idea he was awake, let alone standing directly behind her.

"Hey, how long have you been there?"

"Almost as long as you have," he admitted.

"So," she knew what that meant, "you heard them, too?"

"What are _your _moms planning to do to _my_ moms?"

The distinction between the women was clear cut to the eleven-year-old boy. But to Charlotte it wasn't so obvious…she loved all four of them fiercely. She knew, however, it was just too hard to explain to her now-younger brother. So, she spoke his language.

"I'm pretty sure that _my_ moms are going to erase _your _moms' memories."

"They're going to use magic? I thought my mom was supposed to be different in the future."

"She's only going to use magic because she thinks she needs to save my life—and Amelia's life, too."

"But, why? I don't get it."

"They're trying not to risk the possibility that the future gets rewritten."

"But—I don't want them to do that."

"Why do you even care?" She nearly yelled. "I thought you were still rooting for mom and Neal. I thought you'd want your moms to forget any of this even happened."

"No, I was wrong…both of my moms are happy now—I don't want them to forget that. And I don't want them to forget you or Amelia or anything."

"I don't want them to, either."

"Will they erase my memory, too?"

She considered lying to him—she was sure there were times Henry had lied to her to protect her—but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Yeah…you, Nan, Pop, Neal…anyone who saw us, probably."

"But _I_ don't want to forget you guys."

"Thanks, Henry. I don't want you to forget me either. I want you to remember it so I can hold it over your head when I get home."

"Is there anything we can do?" He pushed. "I mean, I don't want you or Amelia to not be born…."

"Yeah, that would totally suck and my moms would find a way to ground my non-existent self for the rest of my non-existence."

"Do you have a plan?"

She made a promise not to act like the savior.

She made a promise not to lie.

"I might," she told him. "It's not so much a plan as it is a half-idea."

There had to be another way.

She had learned that from her family—with love and magic—there was always a way out.

"Can I help you, please?" Henry begged. "I'm good at half-formed ideas."

"Like taking a bus to Boston to track down your birth mother only to drag her to a cursed town hoping she'll believe her parents are fairytale characters?"

"Exactly like that—yeah."

"I have to admit, that half-idea worked out pretty well for me."

"I'm telling you, Charlotte, I can help."

"Fine," the teenager agreed. "But you have to promise not to tell _anyone_ until I say so. Not one single version of our moms. Alright?"

"Deal," Henry stuck out his hand. She accepted it and shook it.

Her moms had bent the laws of time and space to find a way out for her and her sister.

It was only right that she returned the favor.

She wouldn't let anyone she loved be alone.


	17. The Epicenter

**Here is your next update, my loves! **

**Going to be responding to your heart-warming reviews during my six hour car-ride tomorrow. I know I have fallen behind with that but I love each and every one of you who have stopped by to tell me what you think :) **

**Any mistakes are mine, because I wanted to make sure you had this chapter before I left for DC! **

* * *

Future-Emma and future-Regina sat side-by-side at the kitchen table, both nursing a warm cup of coffee.

"Hey," Henry walked into the room, still sporting his pajamas. "I need to talk to you both about something."

The two women turned around to face him, greeting their son with warm smiles and welcoming eyes.

"Oh, it's you two," he realized, clearly expecting to find the younger pair. "I didn't know… I was looking for my moms."

"Sorry to disappoint," Emma replied. "But I don't think they're even up yet. You can try talking to us, if you want."

"Anything you want to say to them you can definitely say to us," Regina agreed, in a tone so soft it still threw her son for a loop. "Why don't you come here and sit down, love?"

Henry approached the table—never taking his eyes off his brunette mother. He sat down across from them and wordlessly waited for one of them to speak.

"Henry," Regina broke the silence first. "I am just dying to know if you had fun with your sisters last night? I was happy to see the three of you hanging out a little bit."

"I did," Henry told them. "I had a lot of fun. We watched a movie together. And I talked to Charlotte for a while after Amelia fell asleep."

"That's wonderful, dear. I'm so glad."

"I know Charlotte was a little harsh on you when she first got here," Emma added, "but she's been going through a lot—anything hurtful that she said I'm sure she didn't mean. I hope you can understand that."

"Actually," Henry looked back and forth between the two women, "I wanted to talk to my moms because I wanted to ask them something about this."

"About what?" Regina questioned, not following his logic. "Charlotte?"

"I'm pretty sure you can ask us, kid. I think we still technically have authority over you. And we definitely have authority over Charlotte."

"Well," he continued, "I was wondering if I could stay home from school today—Charlotte said you guys are all going to leave tonight and I want to hang out more with my sisters. But mostly Charlotte because she didn't really talk to me when she was first here; like you said, she kind of just yelled a lot. But now we're having fun and I don't want to be at school for her last few hours here."

"I think that would be perfectly acceptable," Regina gave in, without a second thought. "And I think Charlotte would truly appreciate it."

"You're not trying to get out of a test or anything, right?" Emma raised an eyebrow at him. "Because using your sister's time travel to get out of school would be new levels of uncool."

"No, I promise," Henry was confused by the role reversal—Regina giving him what he wanted, and Emma questioning his motives. "I don't have any tests for, like, two weeks."

"Alright," Emma approved. "Of course, you can stay home. I think it's sweet that you want to."

"You'll talk to my moms? I don't want to get in trouble."

"We'll talk to them, yes," Regina promised. "I'm sure they will understand."

"And just for the record, kid, we _totally_ wish we could take you home with us. But you've still got some growing up to do around here. Plus, we kind of like the version of you that's waiting for us in the future."

"She's right, sweetheart. You grew up so well—you grew into an amazing young man—not that you aren't one now. You have always been an incredible boy."

"Thanks," he accepted the compliment somewhat awkwardly, avoiding eye-contact. "At least I know now that things get really good—for all of us. I'm really glad that you are so happy, mom. And that my whole family is together and everything."

"Yes—so am I," Regina reached out and grabbed his hand. "But you should know…I've _always_ been happy with you as my son. It was just the two of us for ten years and I loved every last second of it."

Henry got up from the table and Regina was sure he was about to reject her—she was certain she was about to relive that feeling and she was more than prepared to beg him to stay.

But instead of leaving, Henry marched up to her and wrapped his arms around her neck.

"I love you," she welcomed his embrace and whispered in his ear, "_so _much."

"I love you, too."

She was tempted to keep him close to her, but when he pulled back she let him go.

"Go on," she encouraged. "Go hang out with your sisters."

"Thanks, mom," he nodded. "And thanks, Emma."

"It's actually 'ma' now—but I'll take Emma."

"Thanks ma," he corrected, sounding a little uncertain with the term. "See you both later."

Henry quickly left the room and sprinted up the staircase. As soon as he was gone, Regina put her head down on the table and crumbled into a heap of tears.

"Hey," Emma jumped out of her own seat the second she realized what was happening, "come on, stop, relax."

"I swear he is the worst part of this whole thing," Regina explained her outburst. "We're a week or less away from him getting kidnapped. It's so hard not to just scoop him up into my arms and hide him somewhere safe."

"I know," Emma sighed. She pulled her wife up to her feet and brought her in for a hug. "If you think I haven't considered going to the hospital and shooting Greg in his stupid face...or going to Neal right now and warning him about Tamara….you're mistaken. Because I _have_ thought about it…basically non-stop. If I could erase what they did to you, to Henry, to Neal even….God, I would love it."

"It's _so_ damn enticing, isn't it?"

"But the thing is…if we kill Tamara and Greg here and now, Pan would send someone else for Henry. I mean, they wanted Henry for so long. We know that in our future we save Henry. If we change something…it might mean he doesn't get saved, you know? We can't take _that_ risk just as much as we can't risk changing anything for the girls."

"You're right," Regina said, as she pushed a lock of Emma's hair behind her ear, "but it's so hard to think about what's coming and not be able to protect him."

"We know he does alright for himself. Plus, I heard he's got two tough magical broads for moms….and I heard they rip Neverland to pieces to find him."

"Indeed."

"So no more tears, right? We're going home later—we're going to sleep in our own bed tonight—we're going to sleep knowing we've done all we can to protect all three of our babies. We'll even make Henry stay over. He's never too old for a sleepover with his mamas."

"He might beg to differ" Regina smirked, as her tears subsided. "But, thank you; that sounds truly lovely."

"Now—until then…what would _my queen_ like for breakfast this morning?"

* * *

The sheer warmth of being snuggled beneath Regina's covers made it difficult for the younger version of Emma to so much as move in the morning. But when she heard the alarm on her phone go off for the third time, she couldn't fight it any longer.

The first sight she saw when her eyes finally fluttered open was Regina, fully awake, sitting up in bed next to her.

"Morning," Emma mumbled in her direction. "How long have you been up?"

"I don't know," the brunette replied apathetically, "quite a while, I suppose."

"So," Emma playfully teased, as she rested her hand on Regina's thigh, "were you, like, watching me sleep?"

"Yes; you are really quite beautiful. I don't think I have mentioned that before, but it is worth mentioning. "

"It's too early for compliments," Emma grunted, not expecting such a serious response. "Can you tell me that again in, like, twenty minutes?"

"I will," Regina sorrowfully answered, "I will tell you every twenty minutes for as long as I possibly can."

"Wait," Emma suddenly noticed the tears streaming down Regina's face and felt horrible she didn't recognize them sooner. She sat up and devoted her attention completely to the woman next to her. "What's wrong?"

"I have a _very_ bad feeling," was the vague explanation.

"Yeah," Emma understood. "I had one of those last night, actually."

"You did?"

"Yup, I sort of freaked out a bit. I might even _still_ be freaking out—I'm not awake enough to tell yet."

"The timeline," Regina stated—as if it accounted for everything she was feeling.

"Yeah—look—we're on the same page here…I'm worried about that, too."

"The thing is," Regina picked up Emma's hand and held it tightly. "I think I've always known what was coming, on some level. I just didn't want to deal with it. I didn't want this to end. Any of it—you, the girls, even having Henry see that…that I'm not…well, you know…all bad."

"What do you mean?" Emma pressed, trying to ignore how good it felt to have Regina's hand in her own. "What do you mean you've known what's coming? What _is_ coming? Because I've got no clue over here."

"There is no question that they're going to take you away from me."

Regina's inability to get through the sentence without sobs cut Emma to her very core. No one had ever expressed such a strong desire to have her around—well, no one besides their son. The savior, for one, wasn't going to go down easily—no matter what her future-self wanted.

"No—look, I can promise you that no one is _ever_ going to take me away from you."

"You can't promise that because _I'm_ going to take you away from me," Regina insisted. "Future-me is going to rip you away so she can have you later on."

"I won't let that happen."

"You don't understand; I know _exactly_ what I would do in this situation. I would make sure we didn't remember any of this. It's a basic spell and it's the safest way."

"What are you talking about? What spell?"

"There are spells that can erase our memories. It's the safest way to preserve the timeline; they can make sure we don't know any of this happened. They can make it so that things go _exactly_ how they are supposed to. And that means we will go back to hating each other until who-knows-when."

"I never hated you," Emma mumbled, though it was beside the point. "I just didn't understand you, at all—you made me so frustrated."

"Well, that's what we're going to return to—you being frustrated and me wanting to take Henry back from your self-righteous family. We're going to see each other as the enemy again."

"We don't know that—if magic has evolved enough to make time travel a reality then maybe they have a better way of fixing all of this, too."

"I highly doubt that."

"But we won't know unless we talk to them."

Regina watched Emma jump up from bed. It was obvious that the Charming family optimism had been passed down to the blonde. There were times Regina wished she could be more optimistic, but this wasn't one of them. She was strangely relieved at how prepared she was for misery.

Emma, on the other hand, didn't look prepared at all.

Regina got out of bed and followed her out of the room.

It was time to face the inevitable.

* * *

"I'm back," Henry announced, as he walked into Charlotte's room and closed the door behind him.

"So?" Charlotte asked, as she looked up from her desk. "How'd it go?"

"I'm staying home," he reported. "They _totally_ bought it."

"Not like there was any doubt they would—I feel a little bad about how easily I knew that would work on them."

"Sometimes with our moms you gotta-do-what-you-gotta-do, right?"

"Right," Charlotte laughed, and felt a warmth in her chest at Henry's use of the word _our_. "I absolutely love that you're _eleven _and still get them completely."

"How's it going?" He sat down on the bed and swung his feet over the side. "With the magic?"

"Stressful," Charlotte admitted. "This is harder than I thought it would be."

"Why?"

"Because I just know my moms and I know that whatever spell they brought here is going to be_ so_ powerful—because they've got true love and their magic is insane…I mean they made _me_ with it. It's hard to compete with that. I can't just use _any_ spell if I'm going to figure this out—it has to be a pretty strong one."

"What is that?" Henry pointed to the elaborately decorated book Charlotte had sprawled out in front of her. "That you're reading?"

"It's Grandma's spell book."

"Mary-Margaret doesn't have…" he trailed off as he processed the meaning of his sister's statement. "Oh…it's not Mary-Margaret's book; it's Cora's book?"

"Yeah—I took it from downstairs. Are you going to freak out, now?"

"No," he cocked his head up, determined to look brave. "I'm not."

"Good—I'm just reading. I'm not sure anything in here will even work."

A comfortable silence overtook the room as Charlotte continued to peruse through the pages. Henry made himself comfortable and tried not to be too obvious as he read over her shoulder.

"Charlotte," he spoke after minutes had passed, "do Emma and my mom love you more than they love me?"

"What?" The teenager shot him a startled look. "That's ridiculous."

"I'm just asking."

"Please, Henry, you're like a living legend."

"I am?"

"Uh, yeah—you broke the curse, basically."

"No," he rebutted, "Emma broke the curse."

"But only because of _you_. You dragged her to town, you told her everything she needed to know, you made her believe. And for that, everyone loves you. Everyone is obsessed with you."

"Oh," Henry remained unconvinced, "right."

"Where is this coming from? Why would you even ask that?"

"I don't know," he stared down at the floor. "You were born because of true love. Neal and Emma don't have that. I can't even do magic."

"You don't _want _to do magic, Henry—it's a choice you made a long time ago. Our moms would've taught you but you didn't want to learn."

"Maybe I _do_ want to learn if everyone in my family knows how to do it except me."

"No, trust me—you don't."

"But I feel left out."

"You shouldn't—you're never left out of anything we do. Our moms always want you around. And just because Neal and mom didn't have true love that doesn't mean anything—they both love you like crazy and they still care about each other. Neal is always going to be there for you even though our moms are the ones who get married. Even Mommy and Neal get along."

"They do?"

"Yeah, and you are really close with your Dad. Plus, you're lucky because you have, like, a million sets of parents and grandparents. You've got our moms and then you've got Neal and his wife…"

"Tamara?"

"No—not her," Charlotte hissed. "His actual wife is really sweet though, you like her a lot."

"That's good, I guess."

"Seriously, Henry…being your younger sister is hard work because you set the standard so high."

"Thanks," he finally accepted her words as the truth.

"No need to thank me for sharing the reality of my life."

"I'm sorry for interrupting."

"No, hold on," she paused as she ran her fingers over the page she was on. "The spell that I stopped on to talk to you looks interesting."

"Uh, it looks like a bunch of gibberish to me."

"Yeah, but it's not gibberish."

"What is it?" Henry questioned. "You're acting like a light bulb just went off above your head."

"The only way to do this is to use _them_."

"Our moms? Use them how?"

"Use their true love," Charlotte sprung up from her chair. "I don't know why I didn't think of this before. I mean it's just like…_duh_, you know?"

Henry certainly didn't know—but he trusted her enough to find out.

* * *

The younger versions of Emma and Regina walked into the kitchen, the latter still unable to stop her tears.

"Shit," the older Emma spit out when she noticed them. "I just got _my_ Regina to stop crying—what's wrong with yours?"

"My Regina thinks you're going to erase our memories," the younger Emma explained. "Which is totally ridiculous, because you're _us_ and you wouldn't want yourselves to be totally miserable…right?"

"Why don't you guys sit down?" She heard her own voice reply. "Do you want coffee or tea or something?"

"It's totally ridiculous and not true at all, right?" Emma continued, ignoring the pleasantries. "Someone _please_ tell me that."

"I'm afraid, dear, we cannot tell you that—and my wife is right, you should probably both sit down."

"This is not happening," Emma crossed her arms across her chest and refused to follow the instructions. "I'm just going to put that out there. I'm not going to let you do this to us—to her."

"We have to let them," the younger version of Regina whispered, as she took her seat at the table. "It's the only way."

"You don't know that!" Emma yelled back. "You didn't even know time-travel was a thing until they showed up here. You can't know it's the only way. There can be another way...we can find one—that's what we do…we get ourselves out of really shitty situations."

"No, Emma, not this time," her Regina told her. "Because this is just common sense…anything we do differently…anything at all… we don't know what it could change—and they can't be expected to risk the lives they've built."

"No," Emma repeated, as she finally sat down. She felt helpless, powerless and defeated. Once again—she felt like the savior who couldn't save anyone, not even herself. "No—I don't care."

"You _do_ care," her older-self corrected, "because you care about Charlotte and Amelia."

"How would it work, exactly?" Regina questioned the future couple. "I understand the basic premise… but I don't understand the specifics. We aren't the only ones who saw the girls—so, how would you even go about this?"

"This is the spell that would do it," The older Regina pulled out a bottle of liquid—the contents were clear and could've been easily mistaken for water. "I would suggest that right after we leave you invite the Charmings and Neal over—thank them for all their help and have a toast to the future."

"Spike the drinks with the spell," Regina understood her own plan immediately. "You've thought this out thoroughly, I see."

"Except," younger Emma challenged, "won't we all wake up confused about where the hell the last two weeks have gone?"

"The spell I've brought is a very complicated one, dear—it sort of erases this time, altogether. As soon as you drink it, time will turn back until right before Charlotte and Amelia got here."

"Is it a curse?" Emma pushed. "Like the one I broke in the first place?"

"No, because it's setting things right—you'll go back to exactly where you were when Charlotte and Amelia landed at the well...everyone will."

"We'd have to do this to Henry, too," the younger Regina seemed suddenly concerned, "use a spell on him."

"Look, I know, it sucks," the older blonde intervened, "but the Henry who is waiting _desperately _for his sisters to come back home knows all about this and he wouldn't have it any other way."

"Can you _at least_ let me remember what I learned about her?" Emma pleaded. "Like, can you just leave it somewhere in the back of my mind? I don't want to go back to not knowing everything I know now about what she's been through and how much we have in common."

"You'll learn again, Emma," the future brunette softened, "I promise that you will. I will tell you everything in time."

"It won't be the same, though. I won't remember how it really happened…how Charlotte screamed at my parents for not telling me in the first place. And then I showed up in the middle of the night and I talked to Regina in the study and everything felt like it was falling into place."

"Jesus, this is going to break my fucking heart," older-Emma swore. "Twice."

"I promise you both," older Regina followed her wife's comments, "if there was any other possible way for you to remember this, for us to just leave you two alone—we would. We never meant for the girls to show up here—we never wanted any of this. But you have to understand….they're our whole lives and we won't risk anything happening to them. The whole point of this was to keep them safe."

"I hate this so much," Regina said. "But I don't hate that they ended up here. Even if I don't remember a second of this…I was genuinely happy, felt genuinely loved, for a longer period of time than I ever have in my entire life combined."

"Hey, look," the future savior spoke up, "you will feel that, Regina…you will feel that, uninterrupted, for the rest of your life."

It was the heartfelt promise that made the younger-Emma finally understand—she wanted to turn into the person sitting across from her—she wanted to grow into the woman who loved her wife and children more than anything else in the world.

"Okay,'" she finally gave in and she felt her Regina squeeze her hand tighter under the table. "But how much time do we have left before we have to forget? Is it true you want to leave tonight? We can't even have one more night together? It's not fair; I didn't know last night was the last night."

"I would agree to stay longer," future-Regina considered. "But I'm starting to worry if we don't go home your parents or Henry will try to get here, too. We can't have anyone else from the future showing up."

"Well," Emma agitatedly continued, "if you're going to fucking delete my memory then can you at least cut the shit where you refuse to tell us _anything _that's going to happen to us? If I'm going to sacrifice my happiness now for your happiness later, can you at least start treating us like adults? And let us in on something…_anything _at all?"

"I think we can do that, dear."

"We can?" The older Emma looked at her wife, surprised by the answer. "You sure about that?"

"Why not? They're not going to remember what we tell them, anyway."

"Great, thanks," Emma sarcastically replied to the couple. "So, then, tell me who hurts Regina and tell me how she almost dies."

"No," the younger Regina quickly jumped in. "Please, don't tell us that. I don't want to know that. I don't want to know about the bad stuff. I want to know about the happy things."

"Well, you guys, we would totally have to stay here for ages if we wanted to cover all the happy things. Is there anything in particular you want to know? Because I don't even know where to start if we're talking about the ways in which Regina makes my life better."

"I don't know—tell me anything at all, really," Regina said. "Anything that will give me something to look forward to, even though I won't remember…"

"I, uh, sort of want to know about the wedding," Emma requested. "When Charlotte first got here, she showed us a picture, but I couldn't make much out of it."

"Our wedding was perfect," the future-Regina responded immediately. "The ceremony was tiny because we wanted it that way. Our relationship was the talk of the town from the moment we got together. We didn't want anyone with the wrong intentions to be there. Oh, and we had the ceremony on the Jolly Roger."

"Seriously?" Emma failed to hide her confused expression. "Hook's boat?"

"That's where we fell in love, dear, it only seemed appropriate. And it was beautiful."

"Henry walked you down the aisle, Regina- our kid gave you away to me. Then we had a big party after—that's what we invited most of the town to. It was just a crazy amazing night."

"How was the honeymoon?" Emma pushed for more.

"Of course you would ask about that," older Regina rolled her eyes. "Some things never change."

"Major respect for asking that, actually," Emma laughed at her younger self. "I planned the whole thing…there were so many places I wanted to take her—but I decided I wanted us to have a cliché Caribbean vacation. Nothing about our lives is cliché so I thought just once it would be alright…it was us on the beach for fourteen days."

"Emma has planned a lot of amazing trips for me throughout our marriage. If you want something to look forward to, she likes to sweep me away from Storybrooke a few times a year. Every trip seems better than the last. But I think the honeymoon was still my favorite."

"Mine too," the blonde smiled at her wife. "And I'm sure Charlotte would agree because she was conceived on that trip."

"For real?" Emma asked them. "Was that the plan? To try for kids right away?"

"Honestly, no, not at all. We didn't even really know for sure if it was possible. Regina tried to explain it to me but I was in over my head. It felt _different _that night when we were together… but I thought it was just because of the honeymoon. Apparently, it wasn't. Apparently it was a lot of true love and the fact that we were both thinking about how happy we were to finally be a family."

"When did you know? That you were in love with her?" Regina looked directly into her own eyes. "It took some pretty extreme circumstances for me to realize it…I can't imagine the realization came easily for you, either. "

"You're completely right about that—the circumstances were extreme for me as well. It was the trip that we keep referring to, on the Jolly Roger. I was really sick for most of the journey. Emma and I shared a bunk and about a week in I woke up in the middle of the night feeling terribly nauseous. It was so dark and I was so out of it that I quite literally threw up all over her while she was asleep. She woke up and I swear she didn't even flinch before she was making sure _I_ was fine. I know it sounds absolutely insane but I could tell she just wanted me to be alright even though she was dripping in vomit. I felt so safe and comfortable and like I wanted her to hold me forever. That's when I knew I was in love with her."

"It's funny," her wife followed, "because that was the same exact moment I knew I was in love with her. At that point of the trip, we had already spent so much time together talking and getting to know each other for real. But that night I woke up covered in her vomit and I realized I didn't even give a crap. Plus, she was _so_ sick and weak and yet she used all the energy she had to use magic to clean me up. I knew that she really cared about me and I knew that I didn't want to leave her side."

"That sounds disgusting," Emma snorted. "But yet weirdly appropriate for us."

"I want to know how much longer we have to wait for all of this to happen," Regina demanded. "I want to know when this all begins."

The older couple simultaneously replied: _"So soon." _

* * *

The younger Emma excused herself to go to the bathroom even though she definitely didn't have to pee.

She closed the bathroom door behind her and sat down on the tub. As soon as her butt hit the tile, she broke down.

She didn't want either version of Regina or her future-self to see her like this. Because on an intellectual level, she understood why they couldn't remember.

But on an emotional level, she wanted to punch the wall. She wanted to take her Regina and run away and never look back.

She truly wanted all of the wonderful things she heard about their future to come true. But she wanted the memories they made together over the last few weeks, too.

_"Mom?"_ She heard Charlotte's voice on the other side of the door. "Are you in there?"

As much as Emma wanted to, she couldn't resent the girl; the absolutely perfect girl who was the epicenter of all of the chaos.

"Charlotte, your mom is downstairs."

"No, no…I was looking for _you_."

"Me?" Emma stood up and opened the door. "Are you sure about that?"

"I'm sure," Charlotte said when they were face to face. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah—sure, be my guest."

"Thanks," Charlotte walked by, hiding something behind her back.

"So, what's up?" Emma inquired. "And why are you looking for me?"

"Because I think you're my best bet."

"Best bet for what?"

"Agreeing that I'm not insane."

"I'm going to need to buy a vowel here, because I've got no clue what you're trying to say."

"You were just crying," Charlotte observed, matter-of-factly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm sad about you and Amelia going home," Emma admitted. "And I'm sad about what happens here, to us, when you go."

"I figured. And I'm really sorry about that."

"It has nothing to do with you."

"It has _everything_ to do with me. If we didn't come here in the first place you wouldn't be going through any of this."

"It was worth it to meet you—even if I don't remember."

"But," Charlotte offered, "what if there was a way that you _could_ remember?"

"There isn't—trust me, I just had this fight and I lost by a three-to-one vote."

"I'm not so sure that the three of them are right."

"Wait," Emma studied her daughter's face, "are you serious?"

"I'm very serious."

"But how?"

"Magic, obviously."

"Everyone else said it's impossible."

"Yeah, well," Charlotte pulled a book out from behind her, "they didn't think about this."

"What is that?"

"It's Grandma Cora's spell book."

"_No_," Emma jumped up and knocked the book out of Charlotte's hand. "What are you doing? She's batshit crazy."

"Well, _that_ was a total overreaction," the teenager rolled her eyes as she picked the book up from the floor. "Chill out."

"Where did you even get that from? I don't think you should have that."

"I know where mommy keeps it."

"Isn't it super dangerous?"

"You guys taught me that it's not the magic itself that is light or dark but the intention behind it."

"We did?"

"Yes," Charlotte nodded. "Just read this spell, alright? I think it has potential to help us in this situation because it utilizes your love for each other."

"I don't know if I should."

"Seriously, mom, it's just a book it's not going to attack you."

"Listen, one time I was locked in this cell and there was a scroll with my name written down on it and the words jumped into the air and unlocked the door. So, honestly, I don't know what to expect with spells these days."

"Well, this spell isn't going to jump off the page—I can promise you that much."

"This a little bit over my head, honestly," Emma admitted as she tried, and failed, to process the jumbled words and symbols that made up the spell. "It's just nonsense to me."

"Oh—right—you can't understand this yet, can you?"

"Not even a little bit; I'll seriously be able to understand this one day?"

"Yeah, of course, you learn magic from mommy and that means you learn how to read spells, too."

"What is that?" Emma pointed to the giant symbols, in bright red letters, on the top of the page. "What does it say?"

"It's the title of the spell. It translates to: _all that is lost shall be found._"

"I have to admit, I really like the sound of that right about now."

"Yeah, me too."

"You think it might work? This spell?"

"I think that it's a long shot. But I think it's worth trying."

"What happens if it _doesn't_ work?"

"That's the thing, nothing happens. What happens is mommy's magic is way stronger than mine and you two don't remember. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever."

"And there's no risk? Like, we won't grow five heads? You won't vanish off the face of the earth?"

"No."

"If there's _not_ a risk then why don't you tell your moms? Or even my Regina?"

"They won't hear anything I say past 'Cora's spell-book.'"

"Maybe there's a reason for that. I feel like you're coming to me because I know the least about magic—I am the least likely to understand how stupid this idea might be."

"Maybe," Charlotte confessed. "But there's another reason why I only want to tell you—I'm afraid to get anyone else's hopes up."

"You're not afraid to get mine up?"

"I think you're the strongest—I think you can handle it."

"Not sure if I should take that as a compliment, or if I should be disturbed that you know how emotionally stilted I am."

"Come on, mom," Charlotte begged, "don't you want to remember falling in love with her?"

"Of course I do...more than anything I've ever wanted. But I'm not going to be the one who puts you or Amelia in danger."

"I would do _anything_ to protect Amelia. If I thought this would screw anything up, I wouldn't do it."

"People never _think_ they're going to screw up when they're about to screw up—that's what makes it a screw up."

"I know what I'm doing with magic—I learned from the best. I just want to help you guys for once. My moms can't think clearly when it comes to this because they're just too worried."

"If I _were _to agree to this, kid, what would you need me to do?"

"Just one thing, besides not tell."

"What is it?"

"I need you to get mommy, your version of her, to do something sort of specific."

"How?"

"She's in love with you," Charlotte said, as if was the most obvious thing in the world. "All you need to do is ask."

"Walk me through this," Emma instructed. "Every last step—every minor detail of what you think this spell would do."

"Thank you, mom."

"No, don't thank me…I didn't agree yet… I just agreed to listen."

* * *

Regina and Emma sat on the bed, hand-in-hand, watching the clock tick.

"Why does time move so much faster when you want it to slow down?" Regina asked, as she rested her head on Emma's chest. "I'm not enjoying it."

"I don't know; it's like the law of the universe, or something."

"Emma, I feel a strong sense of impending doom."

"I feel sort of like I want to vomit."

"No, dear, I'm the one who is supposed to vomit on _you_, remember?"

"What's so messed up is that I'm, like, sincerely looking forward to the night that you do. I'm looking forward to being covered in your vomit."

"That's terribly romantic," Regina allowed herself to smile. "Thank you, for making all of this seem like it's going to be just fine."

"It i_s_ going to be fine because in the end we'll still be together," Emma heard the sappy words pour of her mouth. She almost couldn't believe how much she meant them. "I know I was a mess earlier and I'm sorry I wasn't helpful at all. But it _is_ going to be alright."

Regina responded by snuggling up to her closer. "In the end," she repeated Emma's words, as if to convince herself, "we'll be together."

"And I was thinking," Emma swallowed once, praying she wasn't about to make a huge mistake, "you should write Charlotte a letter about how much all of this time meant to you. She can take it home with her and she can even show it to future-us—it might be fun for them to hear all about what we did together. I mean, I'm sure Charlotte would tell them but they could hear it from your perspective if you wrote it down."

"Emma," Regina perked up, "that's a wonderful idea."

"Yeah?" She asked—but the insecurity in her voice went unnoticed. "Is it?"

"Yes…you can write one too or you can help me write mine."

"Nah—you're Charlotte's favorite, anyway—I think it should come from you."

"I'm not her favorite. Charlotte doesn't have favorites."

"Still…I think you should write it yourself; I just want to stay here with you while you do, if that's okay."

"I love you," was Regina's automatic answer. "Of course I want you to be here when I write it."

"Good," Emma said. "Oh, and I love you too, obviously."

"You 'obviously' love me," Regina processed. "Which is, of course, why I'm not going to get to be with you."

"Yet," Emma amended. "We have so much to look forward to. Maybe I'm not going to remember falling in love with you here and now but I'm going to fall in love with you again soon and it seems like it's going to be pretty great—vomit and all."

Regina smiled for the first time all day; the words she wanted to write down were already swirling in her mind.

Maybe, Emma thought, she wouldn't remember falling in love with Regina.

And maybe she would.


	18. Gifts

**Here is what I hope is a satisfying update that was worth your wait. I am officially moved in to my new apartment and started with my grad classes. So I fell a little behind. That being said, this story has a few more chapters in it (my guess = somewhere around three) and my hope is to wrap up before the new season. **

**As always, thank you for continuing to read. What started as a fun summer story transformed into a project I am entirely emotionally attached to. And I truly hope you have enjoyed it :) Oh and yes: all mistakes are mine! **

* * *

Regina's eyes were glued to Charlotte, who held Amelia firmly in her arms. It was the very same position she had found the girls in the first night they had showed up in Storybrooke in the pouring rain.

Over the last two weeks, they had taken her on quite an incredible journey. But when she thought about the notion that the journey was over, her legs felt like they might buckle beneath her. Because Regina despised goodbyes, probably more than the average person.

To her, they had always felt irreversibly permanent.

Goodbyes made her think of Daniel, her first real goodbye; he was ripped from her at the height of their happiness.

Goodbyes made her think of her mother—and her father—and her mother again and again.

They made her think of Henry—and the _almost_ goodbye at the hospital right before the curse ended. And though she hadn't exactly lost him that day—she certainly lost a part of him—a part she wasn't yet sure she could get back.

But despite all the anguish she was currently reliving, Regina stood with a smile plastered on her face. Because she understood that she needed to be the one who held it together. She was certain that's what mothers did.

She was thankful that the future-couple was waiting out in the hallway. This was going to be hard enough. She needed to do this alone—well, alone with _her_ Emma. She had grown accustomed to the savior's presence in the midst of her most intimate and private moments. Even more so, she was sure that Emma had become a welcome source of comfort.

"Say goodbye, Amelia," Charlotte encouraged as she set her sister down on her own two-feet. "Because in a few minutes, we're going to go home."

"Bye other-mom," the young child approached Emma first. "I had a good vacation. It was fun, just like you said it would be."

"Yeah?" Emma bent down on one knee to meet the girl's eye-line. "Was it better than school, or what?"

"Maybe," Amelia considered. "I did get to play _a lot_."

"You did—and I had a lot of fun playing with you."

"I had fun with you and mommy and my new friend Henry," the child paused briefly before continuing. "Do you think you could take extra good care of him?"

"Oh, yeah, I'll _definitely_ take care of Henry," Emma promised. "Can you take good care of your moms for me?"

"I _always _take good care of my moms."

"I mean, I pretty much figured you had them under control—but I just wanted to make sure."

Regina watched in amazement—Emma had transformed into quite the parent. She had gone from awkward to confident, from unsure to steady. Regina felt something akin to pride bubbling in her chest.

If only Emma could remember, Regina thought, it might give the savior more confidence with their son—might encourage her to step into more of a maternal role.

_If only she could remember. _Regina internally scoffed at the impossible request. And, besides, it was simply one of a million reasons she wished they could keep these memories.

"Bye," Amelia approached Regina next, and the brunette's heartbeat rapidly increased at the thought that it was now her turn to let go, at least for now, of the five-year-old. "Thank you for playing with me and for taking good care of me."

"It was no problem," she outwardly held it together but, inside, she was positively collapsing. "And thank you, dear, for spending time with us. Like your mom said, we had a lot of fun having you here."

"My mommy says that you love me just as much as she does."

"That's very true," Regina admitted—she gently stroked the child's cheek. "And I wish you could stay a little longer but you do have to go back to school eventually, right?"

"Right," Amelia leaned into her touch. "Maybe you could come to visit."

"That would be nice," she said, clueless as to how to explain the complicated situation—there would be no visits, no reliving any of this. "Do you think that I could have a hug before you go?"

"Of course you can—you can have tons of hugs."

"I love you," Regina picked Amelia up and whispered in her ear. She felt the child's arms wrap tightly around her neck. "I love you, Amelia."

Regina focused on the embrace—she tried not to think about how long it would be until she held Amelia again. Almost immediately, she felt a second, much stronger, pair of arms wrap around her and was glad that Emma saw fit to join them.

"You're the cutest kid ever," she heard Emma add. "And I love you."

"Kisses?" Amelia asked them. "Please?"

"Always," Regina answered, before following the routine she had become accustomed to: she kissed Amelia on both her cheeks and then her nose—Emma copied her actions right after. When they were done, Regina reluctantly placed her youngest child back down on the ground.

"Go wait in the front hallway with our moms," Charlotte instructed her sister. "And tell them I'll be ready in a few minutes."

The girl skipped off, oblivious to her parent's heartbreak. Regina felt Emma's hand on the small of her back—as if to prop her up. Because now they stood, side-by-side, facing their oldest daughter—the one who had truly changed their lives in countless ways.

"Charlotte," Regina began, "before you start with the goodbyes…I have something for you—well, two things actually."

"You shouldn't have done anything," Charlotte looked down at her feet—a behavior Regina had never witnessed from her before, "you've both done more than enough."

"Nonsense," Regina cleared her throat—feeling nervous to continue. "You've been asking a lot of questions about my mother and I thought you might want to see what she looked like."

"Seriously?" the teenager's eyes quickly darted upward, "I would _love _that."

"This was her locket," Regina pulled the necklace out from behind her and placed it in Charlotte's palm. "I found it when I was going through her things right before you arrived here."

"_This_ is Grandma Cora?" Charlotte opened the locket and she took in the sight of the older woman. "It's really her?"

"Yes, dear, that is your grandmother."

"She's beautiful."

"She would've appreciated you thinking so, I'm certain of that."

"And, wait, oh my God, this is you, isn't it?" Charlotte turned her attention to the picture of a young bride. "This is on your wedding day."

"It is."

Regina held her breath—she had almost taken that particular picture out. But she was certain she wouldn't have gotten away with it—she was certain her daughter, ever the investigative mind, would've asked a million questions about what was missing.

"I do look _just_ like you when you were young," Charlotte observed. "I mean, I've heard people say it but I never had proof."

"There, sweetheart, is the proof. And people used to say I looked like my mother when she was young, too. So you probably look a little bit like her…but that's the only picture I have of her."

"Can I see?" Emma asked, as she walked behind Charlotte so she could get a good look. Regina knew full-well that the blonde wasn't interested in the picture of Cora—she was interested in the wedding picture. "I want to see, too."

"Of course you can, mom."

"You're beautiful, Regina," Emma looked from the picture-to her-and then back again. "But, for the record, your hair looks _ridiculous_. Good thing I saw that picture from _our_ wedding so I already know it looks way better for me."

"Our wedding will surely be nothing like my first, my love."

Emma's eyes nearly popped out of her head at the response. And Regina wondered why, exactly, she seemed so startled.

But then it clicked: _My love_.

It was the phrase they had all witnessed the older-Regina use with her wife over and over again.

For the first time, Regina saw concrete evidence of the two versions of herself merging into one. Instead of feeling panicked, she felt oddly at peace. And Emma was grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Mommy," Charlotte's voice broke the pair out of their unspoken conversation, "I know everyone says it's a horrible idea but I really wish I could've met Grandma Cora while I was time-traveling."

"I'm not sure what she would've made of this whole situation. I'm sure she would've hated the idea of me falling in love with the savior. So, I can't really say she would've treated you very well…"

"Do you still love her?" Charlotte questioned. "Your mom?"

"I wasn't born out of love like you were," Regina told her daughter the harsh reality she had only recently come to accept. "My mother wanted me for a specific purpose—so I could become queen. She worked her whole life to make it happen—I do wish I could've known her before she took her heart out because I think she could've been a good parent...I think she had the potential. She was trying to give me what she thought was best for me...she just did so in all the wrong ways."

"But do you still love her?"

"I do love her, yes. Though I don't love the majority of what she did. In fact, I _hate_ most of the choices she made."

"If you love her then I love her," Charlotte decided. "I don't love the part of her that hurt you but she still made you the person you are today, right?"

"She did," Regina confessed honestly. "I suppose that is true."

"Then I kind of _have_ to love her since I love you so much."

"However much you love me, Charlotte, I will always love you more. And I want you to keep the locket, as long as your moms say it's alright for you to have."

"Are you sure you don't want it? You said it's the only picture of her."

"I'm sure."

"But you won't remember giving it to me—you'll think you lost it or something."

"I don't care; I want you to have it."

"You don't understand," Charlotte's eyes filled with a shiny coat of fresh tears. "This means the world to me."

"You mean the world to _us_, kid," Emma jumped in. "Like, the whole wide-world."

"I know that," Charlotte mumbled. "You've always made sure I've known that."

"We're going to miss you so very much, dear. You've made us so happy."

"Yeah, but now I'm about to make you really, really sad."

"No, kid, it's fine—it's all going to be fine."

"I hope so," Charlotte looked at her blonde mother a little more directly. And Regina wondered if she imagined the seemingly knowing exchange they shared. But she quickly shook it off—too distracted by Charlotte lunging forward at them both and embracing them tightly.

"Look," Emma reasoned, "we want you to go home because that's where you belong. You don't belong here as much as we wish….we wish you could stay, you know?"

"I have one more thing for you," Regina regained her focus, remembering the last task she needed to complete. "Something else to take with you."

"What is it?" Charlotte inquired, as she took a step back.

"This," Regina retrieved the letter from her pocket. "This is for you to read when you get home—your parents sent you here with a letter and I'm going to send you home with one, too. But don't open it until then, alright?"

"Okay," Charlotte agreed. "I can't wait to read it."

Regina approached her this time—and Emma followed. Just one more hug she told herself. She had to work hard to silence the voices in her head that were screaming and begging Charlotte to stay. Somehow, she managed to silence them as she took in every last detail of the child she had come to love so deeply.

"You better go," Emma finally spoke after they held each other for way longer than they knew was reasonable. "I feel like your moms are pretty anxious."

"But I want to take you guys with me."

"Technically, you are, kid."

"Indeed," Regina nodded in agreement. "In fact, we're right in the other room."

"Yeah, I know, but you know what I mean."

"If there's one thing we've all learned," Emma tried her best to lighten the mood, "I think it's that there just isn't room for two Emmas or two Reginas in _any_ version of Storybrooke."

"Come along now," Regina grabbed Charlotte's hand, "we'll walk you inside."

* * *

It was when Charlotte let go of her hand and walked over to her _'real'_ mother that Regina finally allowed herself to cry. As the tears poured down her face, future-Emma tentatively approached her.

Regina still felt a bit awkward around the older-blonde; the way the future version of Emma looked at her all-knowingly always managed to send chills surging throughout her body.

"I'm going to be fine," she promised her future-wife, hoping to appease her.

"No," the older-Emma smirked back her, "you, Regina Mills, are going to be _amazing_."

"I sincerely hope you're right."

"Oh I _am_ right. I mean, look at that," the future-Emma gestured towards the girls and her wife, "you and me…we're going to make _that_ family."

"Yes," Regina nodded. "I know, thank you."

"And you," the older-Emma slapped herself on the shoulder. "You've got a good thing going, try not to screw it up too bad, yeah?"

"Thank you both for taking care of them," the older Regina said, though her true focus seemed to be on the children and the magic she was about to summon. "We truly are forever grateful."

Charlotte pulled her backpack onto her shoulders, Amelia grabbed onto her sister's legs and the two older women formed a protective circle around them.

"Forgive me if I can't watch," the younger Regina buried her head into her Emma's chest. "I just can't."

"No, don't watch then," Emma soothed her, running circles on her back. "Just hold on to me, I'm right here."

"For now," Regina mumbled into her shirt.

Suddenly, she could feel the magic in the air.

And only a second later, it was gone.

Without even looking, she knew. "It's over?"

"Yeah," Emma tightened her grip, "it's over."

"As are we, I'm afraid."

"No," Emma protested, "we are just beginning."

"This feels much more like an ending than a beginning to me."

"I know—but we do things backwards, remember? It's our thing."

The words did not bring her much comfort, despite their truth. "Did you call your parents to bring Henry over?"

"I did—and Neal's coming, too."

"Then this will all be forgotten soon enough."

"Yeah, but until they get here and we drink that spell, you're all mine, right? So, what do you want to do? Any final requests?"

Regina kissed Emma chastely, knowing that all she really wanted to do was feel close to her. "We're not _allowed_ to do what I want to do to you right now," she groaned.

"Trust me… I don't need to be reminded of that."

"Can we just," Regina sighed, "I don't know…will you just sit with me?"

Emma answered by pulling her into the living room and guiding them to the couch. The blonde sat down first and without a second thought Regina climbed into her lap.

"I wish there was another way," she uncharacteristically whined.

"Maybe there is, Regina."

"But there _isn't._ If there was, the future-me would've known about it; future-me would've done something about it."

"I'm just saying," Emma shrugged. "You never know."

"Except in this case, we _do _know. The future told us. And they were right about everything else."

"I think I've learned that I don't know anything. Because I'm pretty sure I thought I hated you. Now, look at us. You can't give up so easily."

"I'm not giving up. I'm just trying to accept reality."

"Reality?" Emma ridiculed the notion. "Look at my life. I don't know what 'reality' means anymore—I don't know what reality even is. The only reality I'm sure of is that I love you."

"_Why?"_ Regina blurted out before she even knew what she was saying.

"What do you mean why?"

"Why do you love me?"

"Uh—what?" Emma was clearly confused by the unexpected turn in the conversation. Regina truly didn't mean to put her on the spot. "Do you not believe that I do, or something?"

"No, I believe you," Regina assured her. "It's just that when Charlotte and Amelia came here—I don't know…it's like you said, you thought you hated me."

"I just needed to be around you, the _real_ you, uninterrupted. I always wanted to believe in you—but things were so, I don't know, insane around us constantly. I just needed it to be me and you and no one else."

"I see," Regina sniffled—she was slightly embarrassed at how runny her nose was from the hysterics in the hallway.

Emma pulled the sleeve of her shirt over her hand and used it to gently wipe Regina's nose.

"Did you just wipe my snot onto your shirt?"

"Yeah," Emma replied. "So, what?"

"In case you were wondering, _that_ is why I love you."

Emma laughed in reply—but Regina was desperately serious. Despite the explanation, she still wasn't quite sure she understood why Emma loved her. But she knew the savior did, indeed, love her.

It was all Regina wanted—someone to love even the ugliest parts of her. And Emma loved it all: from the Evil Queen to her snotty nose.

* * *

Emma looked around at the people sitting at Regina's kitchen table—her son, her parents and her first love. She was about to erase their memories. She was about to erase her own memories. And she was about to erase the memories of the woman she was currently in love with.

"So," David curiously looked at her, "why, exactly, are we here?"

"Charlotte and Amelia went home," Regina announced as if she were relaying the weather forecast.

"Yes," Snow said. "We said good-bye to them this morning. How are you two doing?"

"We're fine," Regina coldly replied. "It is what it is."

"I mean, yeah," Emma followed—as she grabbed Regina's hand, "but it sucks—we sort of got used to them being here."

"Yes," Regina softened visibly, reassured by the contact, "we love them very much."

"And as to David's question about why you're here," Emma continued, "we basically wanted to thank you for your help over the past two weeks."

"And your continued discretion," Regina shot Neal a slightly threatening look. "It has been much appreciated."

"Regina and I definitely couldn't have handled all of this without you guys."

"It was fun having them here," Henry spoke up, when the other adults remained silent. "I'll miss them."

"Regina and I are going to miss them, too, kid. But, you know, we'll all see them again—that's the cool part to think about….Charlotte knew stuff about all of us…really good stuff….so…I can't be…I can't be too sad about it, I guess…because I know I've got a future that all of you are in."

"So you two are together now?" Neal questioned, his gaze not-so-subtly traveling down to the couple's intertwined hands. "In _this _time period, or whatever?"

"Yeah," Emma confidently informed him. "And it's not because…it's not just because I was told I'm supposed to be with her. I'm actually a big fan of _this _version of her."

"Emma," her father failed to hide his continued concern, "the Regina that showed up here was very _different_."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I believe," Regina offered her translation, "your father is asking if I am different enough for you to care about me now—or if am I still too _evil_ to deserve that."

"You know it's funny," Emma sighed. "When Charlotte first got here she kept saying that Regina really wasn't that different in the future—and that didn't make sense to me at first. I thought she had to be so different for me to be with her. But now, looking back, it makes total sense. Regina isn't that different in the future—she's just as loving as she is right now. The truth is it's everything around her that's different. And we're going to start giving her the support she deserves. All of us."

"I second that," Henry enthusiastically agreed and Emma half-expected him to start clapping.

"This Regina and I fell in love in our own way and I'm not even asking any you to like it, I'm just asking you to respect it."

"Love?" Her mother choked out, a little surprised at the strength behind the word.

"Oh, yeah, sorry…I thought that much was obvious."

"I guess I just didn't know that you were admitting it so freely, sweetheart."

"I mean it's not really a spoiler alert at this point, is it?"

"Regina…" Snow began. "You and I…"

"Yes, I know," Regina nodded, "we will certainly have to talk at some point. But, there is plenty of time for that… isn't there?"

Emma knew Regina was putting off the subject specifically because there _wasn't _time for it. There wasn't time for anything. Because Regina knew that in a few minutes, Mary-Margaret would go back to being her biggest enemy. At least for a little while longer.

"Right now we'd really like to just celebrate," Emma let go of Regina's hand, only to pick up the tray of glasses sitting on the counter. "Charlotte's last request was that we all have a toast in honor of their trip home."

"This is a sweet idea," her mother approved.

"And we even have cider for Henry," the savior added as she handed her son a glass and lovingly ruffled his hair. She reminded herself of what the older-couple had said: that the future-version of Henry knew this was the right call.

Emma and Regina took the last two glasses and turned to face each other. Emma could feel that everyone was staring at them, but she didn't care in the slightest.

"Cheers," Emma said as she raised her glass and gently tapped it against Regina's. "To the future."

"To the future," Regina repeated, before leaning in for one last kiss. "_Our _future."

* * *

Emma felt her body smash against the hallway floor with full force. She knew it was the same hallway she was in just a few moments ago—but she also knew that she was _home._

She thought she saw someone pull Amelia off the ground—and as she opened her eyes more fully, she was pretty sure that it was Henry. Before she could process much of anything, she felt her mother hoisting her up onto her feet.

"Henry!" She heard Charlotte shriek—before enthusiastically running towards her brother. "You're here!"

"_Emma_," she heard her mother's voice speak her name. "Emma, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she looked around for Regina—but her vision was blurry and she couldn't identify her wife amongst the haze of colors and shapes. "Where is she?"

"Regina is right there," Snow pointed her in the direction of David. Emma, balancing on her mom, finally saw it for herself: her father's arms wrapped securely around her wife. "Everyone's here, everything is alright, you did it."

"Hallelujah," the savior exhaled before muttering inaudibly, "that was a fucking nightmare."

"What took you guys so long?" David asked, as he continued to hold Regina up. "You were really starting to scare us. We started to think something went wrong."

"Well, it didn't exactly go right," Regina huffed, struggling to catch her breath. "The girls got a little, um, lost."

"What do you mean?" Henry asked—as he held Amelia with one arm and placed his other around Charlotte. "Lost? How?"

"We went on vacation to the past with other versions of our moms," Amelia reported. "It was weird."

"You don't even understand how weird," Charlotte looked at her grandparents specifically, "because you'll seriously _never_ guess where we ended up."

"Where, sweetheart?" Snow inquired. "Where did you end up?"

"We were in 2013."

"You were _not_ in 2013," David's voice begged. "No way."

"They were," Emma confirmed. "We all took an interesting stroll down memory-lane."

"But that was in the middle of…." Henry began, but trailed off. Emma was sure he was searching for words that wouldn't offend anyone currently standing in front of him.

"Yeah, I know," Charlotte interrupted, "tell me about it."

"Our moms weren't even together then," Henry considered. "Right?"

"Yeah but don't worry," the teenager smirked, "they were together by the time we left."

"Wait," David tried to follow, "_what_?"

"Uh, it's a really long story," Emma replied. "And I'm sure we'll tell you everything in detail but can we take this conversation into the living room, maybe?"

Henry and the girls followed the instructions immediately. And David finally let go of Regina in exchange for taking hold of Amelia's hand.

"Mom, wait," Emma said, grabbing onto Mary-Margaret's arm. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"You saved Regina from Gold."

"Oh, that," Snow down-played the events. "It was nothing."

"It wasn't _nothing_," Emma insisted. "I asked you to make sure she was safe and you did."

"Don't be modest," Regina added, finally taking her rightful place next to her wife. "We all know this story could've had a very different ending if you didn't stop him that night."

"Regina, you already thanked me—let's just move on."

Emma looked at Snow and Regina—who were looking at each other; immediately she sensed something was off.

"You guys are totally doing that thing where you get all weird and make me feel like I'm missing something. What gives?"

"Your mother is trying not to rat me out to you," Regina explained. "She is terrible at it but her efforts have been noted nonetheless."

"Huh? Rat you out? About what?"

"In the midst of the chaos of that night, I may have told her that I love her."

"Really?" Emma perked up. "You did?"

"Calm yourself, dear, I was trying to stop her from becoming the dark one."

"I can't believe I missed this," Emma's excitement over the news could not be diminished. "You _would_ finally say it when I was literally in another decade. My two favorite women in the whole wide world finally grew a pair."

"Regina," Snow's voice meekly followed her daughter's, "you really went back to 2013?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Which, um, part of that year, exactly?"

"It was actually right after Cora died," Emma said—she felt like it was better to get this particular part of the conversation over with. "Like the girls showed up only a few days after—right before Neverland, too."

"That must've been horrible for them," Snow frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Yes, dear, I know you are. But at this point I believe we are more than even."

"Don't say it like that, please," Mary-Margaret cringed, "like there's some sort of body-count score card."

"I was merely trying to assure you that my trip to the past did not reopen any old wounds."

"Good. Because I _do_ love you, Regina."

"The feeling is mutual," Regina nodded, "but really… I would rather not make a habit of saying that too loudly, hmm?"

"You don't _have_ to make a habit of it," Emma locked arms with both of them- one on either side of her. "But it would also be nice if this wasn't the last time you said it, don't you think? I mean, it would be nice for Charlotte to hear, especially considering what she just witnessed."

"Do I even _want_ to know what she witnessed?"

"Oh, you definitely don't, mom. Apparently Charlotte bitched you and dad out pretty good for calling Regina evil."

"That's just great," Snow sighed. "I'll have talk to her."

"Yes," Regina agreed. "I imagine we will all have to talk to her once she starts processing what she went through. But, for now, I think we should just let her breathe."

"And you two should breathe, too."

* * *

Emma, Regina and Snow walked into the living room to join the rest of their family.

"When I time-traveled backwards I wanted to sleep for my whole life," Charlotte's voice echoed throughout the room—the girl was pacing in front of her brother and grandfather. "But now I feel like I've had fifteen cups of coffee, or something."

"Me too," Emma agreed, as she opted for a seat on the couch. "I was seriously just thinking that…I'm totally wired."

"Where is my youngest child?" Regina questioned, as she looked around for Amelia. "Where's Amelia?"

"Already up in her room," David informed her. "She said she needed to make sure everything was still there."

"She was really traumatized by the separation from her stuffed animals," Charlotte told them. "She complained about it the whole time. She said if she knew she was going to be gone for so long she would've told them."

"She is quite the imaginative child," Regina sat down next to Emma. "She's probably telling them all about her adventure."

"Charlotte," Snow approached her granddaughter, "there are still a bunch of birthday presents for you in the kitchen when you're ready to open them."

"Really?" The teenager smiled. "Um, I'm ready _now_."

"Does this means, perhaps, that you're also up for receiving your biggest birthday present, dear?"

"Uh, yeah, I am."

"David?" Regina asked. "Have you been keeping it safe?"

"Of course," he replied. "I've only been protecting it with my life."

"Come here, then, Charlotte," Regina patted the spot in-between her and her wife. "Sit with your moms."

"I'm excited," she exclaimed. "Mom, is this the present you said you couldn't bring with you because it was too big?"

Before Emma could answer, David stood before them holding a small, beautifully wrapped box in his hand. "Here you go, little queen," he dramatically bowed as he gave it to her.

"This is tiny," she scrunched her nose in confusion. "What is it?"

"Just open it, kid."

Charlotte opened the paper and found a blue velvet box. When she opened it, a single silver key sat inside it.

"I don't get it?" She picked up the key and examined it closely. "What is this for?"

"I don't know," Regina innocently shrugged. "But maybe if you go outside and look in the driveway you will understand better?"

"The driveway?" Charlotte asked before coming to an impossible conclusion. "You did _not _buy me a car."

"We didn't?" Emma mocked. "Huh, that's weird. I could've sworn we did."

"If we didn't buy her a car, Emma, then I'm really not sure what we were doing at that car dealership…."

"No way," Charlotte jumped up and sprinted towards the front hall. When she got there, she swung the door open. She screamed as she took in the sight of the small, silver car sitting in her driveway.

The adults stood in the doorway, watching her excitement.

"Charlotte," Regina called her back over, "I hope you know there are about a million rules that come with this."

"A billion, actually," Emma corrected. "Number one is that you're not driving it by yourself for another year, at least. You still need a lot of practice."

"I understand," Charlotte nodded. "I know I do."

"But," Regina said, "we thought you could practice on the car you'll be driving once you get your full license."

"This is way too much."

"Yeah, we agreed when your grandparents suggested the idea," Emma explained. "But the more we talked about it the more it started to make sense."

"I don't deserve this."

"You do too, kid. Your PSAT scores prove you'll be getting a free ride to college. In the long run, you're going to be pretty cheap. And, honestly, it's not exactly like this is your mom's Mercedes."

"But it's _very_ safe," Regina promised. "Your grandfather and your mom did a lot of research and I oversaw it."

"More like she _obsessed_ over it," David lovingly teased. "I think she's an expert on airbags now."

"I can't believe this," Charlotte brought her hands to her head, still in shock.

"Yeah, well," Emma stood with her own hands on her hips, "I can't believe we had to send you back in time."

"Did you get me this car because you feel _guilty_?"

"No," Regina assured her. "We bought the car before any of this happened. Though, I have to be honest, seeing you smile so brightly again helps a little with the guilt."

"Stop feeling guilty," she kissed both her moms on the cheek. "Thank you, this is beyond amazing."

"My parents will be covering the insurance so you can thank them, too," Emma reported. "But you'll have to pay for the gas with your tutoring money."

"Charlotte got her car!" Amelia suddenly appeared in the doorway. "_Finally_."

"Amelia," Charlotte addressed her sister, "you knew about this and you kept it a secret?"

"Yes—I'm a good secret keeper."

"You did a really good job, kid." Emma high-fived the child. "Nice work."

"I want a car, too, mom."

"Well," Emma said, "when it's your birthday, you can have a bike."

"I already have a bike."

"Uh, we'll get you a fancier bike?"

"What your mom means, Amelia, is that if you work hard enough and do well enough in school…when you're older we'll do the same for you."

"Hey," Henry interrupted, "how come _I _missed out on this deal?"

"Because, dear, I'm pretty sure we paid for you to go to some fancy college in a city where you didn't _need_ a car."

"I'm kidding," Henry put his hands up in surrender. "And your first tank of gas is on me, Char."

"Thanks," she grinned. "I seriously have so much to tell you, Henry. I don't even know where to begin."

"Hey, moms, do I count as someone Charlotte can drive with?"

"Of course, love."

"You think you're up for a test drive, then?" Henry asked his sister. "We can take it out and then get some dessert and you can tell me everything."

"Henry," Regina pulled him aside quietly, "we've been home for less than an hour and you already want me to let her out of my sight?"

"Mom, Gold is locked up, you're all home—it's over."

"I know, but…_still_."

"It's like when I got home from Neverland," he explained. "I had confidence in myself because you guys had confidence that everything was fine."

"I will have you know, Henry, that was entirely fake confidence for your benefit."

"True story," Emma agreed. "We threw up every time you left the house."

"Well, you're going to have to fake it again for Charlotte's sake. And besides, I want to be the first person to take her out for a drive….that's what older brothers are for."

"I'm alright with it," Emma conceded, "but only if your mom is."

"I want you both back here in two hours," Regina spoke loud enough for Charlotte to hear. "And I swear, if you're so much as one minute late…."

"Yeah, yeah," Henry said, as he got in the front seat. "I got it."

Emma pulled Regina in for a hug as Charlotte got behind the wheel. Moments later, the car pulled out of the driveway.

"Emma, love, I think my menacing tone has lost its impact on our son. He seemed rather immune to my threat just now."

"It does seem that way. But your threats haven't lost their impact on me, if it helps."

"Me either," Snow teased.

"Ditto," Charming confirmed.

"Good to know," Regina chuckled, genuinely, and Emma was so happy to hear that sound again. "It's wonderful to be home."

"Moms," Amelia demanded their attention, "can I have an ice-pop? The other versions of you didn't have any. I haven't had an ice-pop in two weeks."

"That is an _outrage_," Emma melodramatically stated, "we absolutely must fix this immediately."

"Yes, sweetheart, come on," Regina grabbed the child's hand, "let's go inside."

* * *

Charlotte sat on her own bed—in her own house—with her own blankets and pillows. She sat on her bed with the knowledge that her moms were merely down the hallway. She sat on her bed with the knowledge that everything was back to normal.

Almost everything.

She pulled the letter out of her backpack knowing that if her plan was ever going to work, it was going to have to work tonight.

She had told Henry everything—except, of course, for this.

She just wasn't willing to risk it. She just had do this on her own.

She opened the envelope and smiled as her eyes skimmed over the heartfelt words on the page.

She tugged gently on the necklace sitting around her neck. It was obvious why the woman inside the locket was coming to her mind.

"Grandma Cora," she spoke in a whisper, "uh—if you can hear me…I was wondering if you could help me make this spell work."

She felt a little ridiculous talking to the dead—but she had been living the very definition of ridiculous for two weeks. And though she certainly hadn't spoken to her grandmother like this ever before, she felt like she needed to tonight.

"The thing is, you took a lot of stuff from mommy—I was hoping maybe, just this once, you could give something back to her? I think she really deserves it. She doesn't think you'd like my other mom—and she doesn't know if you'd like me…but I think you would like us if you had your heart and you got to know us and stuff. Oh and I don't know if you heard me earlier, or if it helps, but I do think you were really, really pretty."

She clutched the letter to her chest as she got up.

It was time to read her whole house a bedtime story.

* * *

Charlotte carefully opened the door to her moms' room. Her heart warmed at the sight of them wrapped up in each other's arms.

"Alright," she whispered as she approached the bed, trying frantically not to make too much noise. "Here we go."

She took a deep breath and began to quietly read the words past-Regina wrote.

"To my dearest Charlotte,

By now you have returned home and I am so glad that this whole ordeal is over for you. I am relieved you are safe and am proud of how strong you were during what was certainly a less than ideal situation. Your bravery during the last two weeks was nothing short of astonishing. You set the example for all of us—most especially your sister—to remain calm and know that everything was alright. It also overjoys me to witness just how far your mom and I would go to protect you. And as much as I know it won't seem like it, we really are ecstatic that you will be back with your family.

I only wish that I would remember the days we spent together. But the truth is, my love, that you have the ability to tell me. What I want, more than anything in this world, is for to go talk to your parents about everything that happened.

Please tell me about the first night you showed up in Storybrooke, 2013. I was sad and defeated and so very angry. I saw you on the street and I may not have recognized how much you resemble me but I did recognize how lonely and scared you looked. All I wanted was to help you—thank you for letting me.

That was the very same night you came to my room because you couldn't sleep. You told me that when we talk, you feel better. But it was you who made me feel better. Tell me about how you grieved with me during a time I had no one willing to even try to reach out to me. You seemed to understand all of the things I couldn't dream of saying out loud.

Tell me how you brought an extremely reluctant Emma into my life—how you watched the two of us grow closer, all the while knowing how much potential we had. Thank you for always pushing us in the right direction: towards each other.

I want you to tell me about how you painted my nails purple, how we played hide-and-seek and built a snowman. You reminded me how to smile and laugh and enjoy living in the moment.

And, of course, please make sure you tell me all about how you screamed at your grandparents because I'm sure I will be more than amused. Tell me about how you held my hand while they talked about me and how you defended me so very fiercely—I wonder if, by then, I will understand the faith you place in me. Because, right now, I'm still baffled by it. Truthfully, I'm not sure I'll ever comprehend how I got so lucky to have you and Amelia and Henry in my life.

And Emma, darling, if you are nearby (which I can safely assume you are), there is something I want to say to you, too. So listen very carefully to your daughter's voice—the one that sounds so much like yours.

If there ever comes a day where you start to doubt us, I want you to know: we fell in love not once, but twice. Whatever history you remember of ours, there is also a history you don't remember.

Perhaps, for instance, you would be interested to know that our first kiss took place on Charlotte's sixteenth birthday. I had ketchup on my lip and you found a creative way to solve that problem. There was an older version of you sitting downstairs in my living room. The world was spinning out of control around us and you were my center.

We fell in love during a time we weren't supposed to. We fell in love after you accused me of murdering Dr. Hopper and kept my (he's our son now) son from me. We fell in love after I sided with my mother and would've likely killed you to get Henry back. We fell in love after your mother manipulated me into killing the only person I thought I had left.

And I do not say that to remind you of the past. I say that because it makes me think that, perhaps, we are meant to be together. Because I'm now quite certain that if I could fall in love with you in the middle of this mess…well, it seems like destiny to me.

I'm not sure where you stand on the concept of destiny. A long time ago I believed in it and then I lost my way. There is no denying that I was the Evil Queen. There is no denying that you are the Savior. Your mother seems to think our relationship it's some sort of poetic justice—everything finally coming full-circle. Truthfully, I don't really care what it is. I just care about you.

I don't even know what, exactly, is ahead of us.

I know it involves the Jolly Roger, a few near-death experiences and an engagement ring made out of a trigger. I know that I teach you magic and you're not too bad at it.

I know we get married and go on vacations at least once a year. I know we have two incredible daughters and an amazing son who comes home so I can do his laundry.

I know you wear your hair curly for me and that I wear skinny jeans for you.

I know we eat brunch with your parents every Sunday and that I have learned to tolerate their existence. I know that, somehow, we are the family I thought I would never have.

I know everything and nothing at the same time. But I look forward to filling in the blanks with you.

Most of all, I know that I will love you always. And I only wish I could remember just how early on I realized that. I saw it in my own eyes—I saw it in my future self. I saw forever.

But even if I hadn't seen it, Emma, I feel it in my own heart right here and now. I feel it in the heart I was sure would never feel again.

So, Charlotte, my perfect angel, it is up to you to paint the picture for your mothers who don't remember. I trust you can do it; I trust with everything that I have.

You are so much more than I could have ever dreamed of. Amelia is so much more than I could have ever dreamed of. Henry is so more than I could have dreamed of—each one of you in your own way.

And I hope you know now just how long I dreamed of you. Because I loved you long before you were born. I loved you during the nights I wanted my own mother to love me and she couldn't because she never had her heart. I promised myself that things would be different when I held my own children in my arms. And I'm glad I got the chance to learn, if only momentarily, just how very different things are.

Thank you existing—thank you for restoring my faith in what is good in this world—thank you for giving me hope.

I love you so much,

Mommy"

Charlotte finished reading but remained entirely engrossed in the powerful message.

And she waited, not-so-patiently, for a sign that she had done something right.


	19. Both

**Your next update. I have fallen behind on responding to reviews. But they make me SO HAPPY :) I will try to get to some tonight. There will probably be two chapters after this one. I'm excited to be wrapping it up and hope you all enjoy it. **

**Also, a quick word of thanks to both leftsideofthecouch and alazyavocado, two awesome members of Swen who have been so kind to me in the past few weeks during my big move! But, truthfully, I love all of you and can't wait to (maybe) survive season three together.  
**

* * *

Regina's eyes fluttered opened and her lips curved upwards into a smile. Even in her half-conscious state, she knew everything was just as it should be; she was surrounded by the sights, the sounds and the smells of her mundane, everyday life.

"Hi," Emma, who was sitting up in bed, leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. "Good morning."

"Good morning, my love," Regina replied, happily accepting the affection. "How long have you been awake?"

"A while," Emma admitted. Her blonde hair was parted into two messy, but adorable, braids. "For whatever reason, I woke up with the sun."

"What time is it, then?"

"Uh, like, eleven? You were seriously out cold this morning. I might have even heard some snoring."

"I _don't_ snore," Regina insisted as she took the ends of Emma's braids and twirled them with her fingers. The former queen knew she did, in fact, snore; her denial was a running joke between them. "So, I'm afraid you must be mistaken."

"Right, obviously," Emma smirked, immediately recognizing the familiar game. "I must be."

"And I do have to admit, dear, I'm a little surprised you don't already have your hands down my pants."

"Oh, don't you even worry; that's tomorrow," Emma promised. "Tomorrow is make-up-for-all-the-sex-we-haven't-had-lately-day. "

"Really?" Regina laughed, as she turned on her side to face her wife. "You couldn't think of a better name than _that_?"

"Whatever—it's accurate and descriptive—I don't think it needs some fancy name."

"I see," she accepted the ridiculous explanation. "But if _that's _tomorrow_,_ what's today?"

"Today is we're-not-doing-anything-at-all-day because, seriously, I'm too damn exhausted to even move."

"That is also a rather accurate description. And you can count me in for _both_ days."

"I was hoping you would say that. And I had a pretty good feeling you'd agree."

"Why does the house sound so quiet?" Regina wondered out loud, as she not-so-subtly inched a little closer.

"Oh, well, my parents went home. And Henry had to leave for the city really early this morning."

"He didn't say goodbye," Regina failed to hide her disappointment. "Why not?"

"I didn't want him to wake you up; he said he'd call you later."

"You should've let him. I wouldn't have minded."

"I know but you need the rest. And if it helps at all, he gave you a kiss before he left. It was cute. I think he was more worried about this whole thing then he let on."

"We'll see him this weekend, I suppose."

"Yeah and, um also, the girls took the bus to school this morning."

"They _did_?" Regina sat up fully, surprised at the revelation. "They went to school?"

"Yeah, I told them they could stay home another day if they needed to but they were both anxious to get back to normalcy, I think."

"Charlotte took the bus?"

"Trust me, she didn't _want_ to. She really wanted to take the car. But I was the only adult around and I mean, come on, do you see me right now?" Emma gestured towards her ratty t-shirt, black leggings and fuzzy socks. "I'm a mess. I think she knew better than to ask me to drive with her today. I told her we'd start tomorrow."

"I feel horrible that I wasn't up; I didn't even wish them a good first day back. If I had thought they were going in today I would've set my alarm."

"Relax…I put a note in both of their lunches like a big loser and signed our names."

"Even in your exhausted state, you knew precisely what I would want," Regina hummed in approval. "That's _rather_ impressive."

"Thanks," Emma grinned, proudly. "Do you want to watch some trashy TV?"

"Not particularly—but I wouldn't mind watching you watch trashy TV until we both inevitably fall back to sleep."

"That actually sounds perfect."

Regina stared at Emma, who flipped around the channels aimlessly.

Regina snuggled up to her, more than content to drown out the commercials and concentrate solely on the sound of her wife's breathing.

And, damn, it was good to be home.

* * *

Regina felt the presence of other people in the room before she actually heard the voices.

She opened her eyes and took in the sight of her in-laws standing in her bedroom as if it were somewhere they naturally belonged.

_Boundaries,_ she thought to herself_,_ _the Charmings have none._

Despite her annoyance, she didn't voice the half-formed scolding running through her mind. Because even this normalcy—their constant, and slightly bizarre, invasion of her personal space—was a welcome problem compared to the last few weeks.

"Good morning," Regina greeted them, as she lifted herself off of their daughter's sleeping form.

"It's actually the afternoon," David corrected her.

"My apologies, I suppose we have been drifting in and out all day then."

"_Regina_," Snow stated her name with incredible urgency; she nervously bit her fingernails and fidgeted anxiously as she leaned against her husband's chest.

"Don't," Regina nearly begged her, "_please_."

"What?" The nervous woman looked at her with confusion. "Don't, what?"

"I don't know what you're about to say but whatever it is I have a feeling I'm not going to like it. You're wearing the same face you had on when the whole mess with Gold and the girls started."

Before Snow could speak another word, Emma stirred. "Mess? I didn't do it," the blonde groaned. "I'll clean it up later."

"Emma," her father spoke, "we need you to wake up now, please."

"Oh," the savior replied, as she propped herself up on her elbows. "Uh, sorry, when did you guys get here?"

"Can everyone please stop talking," Snow pleaded. "I need…I need you to stop talking."

"Alright?" Emma furrowed her brows. Regina watched her try to assess the situation she woke up to. "What's your problem?"

"I remember," Snow said, matter-of-factly.

"You remember what, mom?"

"I remember _both_."

"What is she rambling on about?" Regina addressed David, giving up on the expectation of coherency from her mother-in-law. "I don't understand."

"Go ahead," Snow elbowed her husband. "Tell them."

"We were having lunch," Charming began. "We were talking about Charlotte's car. And then, we just…"

"Charlotte's birthday," Snow frantically interrupted. "I remember—I remember being in _this _house. But it wasn't now—it was right after Cora died and the girls showed up and Regina offered to drink with me and David didn't know who Amelia was and…and I remember that but I also remember the other version….with Henry in the woods trying to blow up magic and Emma calling you a bad person and I remember _both_."

"Huh?" Emma looked curiously at her parents, trying to follow. "What?"

"Are you two _sure_ that the past versions of you erased our memories?" Snow questioned. "Because I'm telling you that I remember. At first I thought maybe it was just me but…"

"But I remember, too," David added. "Except it's really weird…because it doesn't feel like it just happened…it feels like a distant memory—one I only remembered when I thought about it—when it was triggered—it's almost as if the memories have been there all along."

Emma fell silent—seemingly examining her parents' features, searching them for honesty. Regina, for her part, was ready to get out of bed and slap them both for the absurdity of their claim. They had all been through enough—and this, whatever it was, was not helping.

"What you two are suggesting is, quite frankly, impossible."

"Do you really think we'd lie about this?" Snow frowned. "I can tell you details—I can tell you anything you want to know about that week."

"Do either of _you _remember?" David inquired. "Or is it just us?"

"Um, Regina," she felt Emma's hand grab onto her bicep—she felt the grasp tighten as her wife looked at her with wide-eyed confusion, "you taught me how to make frosting."

"No," Regina replied on instinct. "Stop buying into this."

"Shit, ouch," Emma whined, "my head feels all weird when I think about it."

"That happened to us, too," Snow said. "It gave me such a bad headache at first—but then I sorted through the memories and now it all feels really clear."

"Stop this—_immediately_," Regina demanded—she got out of bed, trying to take command of the room despite that she was in nothing but a long t-shirt and her black panties. "You must be mistaken. You must be confusing Charlotte's stories with your own memories."

"Charlotte didn't tell me what I remember, though," David countered. "She couldn't have."

"Because she couldn't have told me about conversations David and I had about finding out, a week after Cora died, that Emma marries you. Do you think, maybe, they didn't go through with the spell? The younger versions of you?"

"No, they wouldn't have risked it," Emma concluded. "_We_ wouldn't have risked it."

"True love's kiss, then?" David pondered. "What about that? I'm sure you two have, uh, kissed plenty since you got home?"

"Nah, Dad, I don't think so; by now I know a spell-breaking-kiss when I feel it," Emma assured them. "Regina, do you seriously not remember? Because I think—no, I _know_—that I remember some stuff I'm not supposed to…"

"No," Regina replied, as she crossed her arms. "I don't remember."

She said it with force and certainty.

But, truthfully, she wasn't quite sure.

And she just wasn't willing to let herself think about it.

If the memories _were_ there, she was actively preventing herself from accessing them.

Emma was staring off into space, looking like she was trying to solve some complicated math problem.

And Regina was afraid—afraid that what her in-laws were claiming was true.

Because their plan had already gone wrong in too many ways, had cracked in too many places.

"You're all mistaken," she said, calmly. "You don't remember anything."

"Shit," Emma leaped up from the bed, suddenly jumping up and down like she was standing on hot coal. "Shit, shit, shit, shit."

"Sweetheart?" Mary-Margaret rushed to her side. "What is it?"

"_Charlotte." _

"What about her?" Regina asked.

"Charlotte did this—Charlotte gave us our memories back."

"No, love, she couldn't have. Why would you even say that?"

"Because she did it and I fucking helped her, okay?"

"What?" Regina exclaimed. "What, on earth, are you…?"

"The younger-me helped her do this. But I didn't know. I mean, I wasn't _me_ then. I didn't know what I was doing. But I definitely helped her."

"Helped her do _what_?" Regina panicked at the accusation. "Emma? What did she do?"

"I—I," the savior finally stopped jumping—she stood perfectly still. "I don't even want to tell you."

"_Emma_!" Regina yelled and stomped her foot. "Tell me _right now_."

"Charlotte used your mom's spell book."

"Excuse me?"

"I sort of remember being in the bathroom with her," Emma recalled. "And she told me she had a plan to help us remember. But it's fuzzy—ah, I don't know, it hurts my head to try to remember."

"Emma this isn't funny. You_ have_ to remember. If what you're saying is true, then Charlotte used dark magic. I need to know which spell she used _exactly_. This could have entirely dangerous side effects."

"I don't know—I don't know—I remember her telling me that," Emma doubled-over and brought her hands to the side of her head. "Uh, that she was going to try some spell so we could remember. I don't remember if she said which one."

"Okay, stop, never mind, don't hurt yourself," Regina soothed. She knew what her wife looked like when she was in pain—and Emma certainly wasn't faking it. "Don't think about it any harder if you have a headache."

"But _why_ does it hurt my head so much to think about?"

"I wish I could give even the slightest bit of an answer here—but I don't understand any of what is currently happening."

"Alright," Emma stood back up, walked over to her, and hugged her. "We'll figure it out, whatever it is."

It was Emma's embrace that broke the dam; her wife's engulfing arms triggered all of it at once.

Regina audibly gasped as she was flooded with images of a time she was supposed to have erased all together.

Emma pulled back slightly, understanding the significance of the sound. "You remember, now?"

"Yes," Regina slowly nodded. "I remember."

* * *

Regina and Emma sat silently at the kitchen table waiting for their daughter to come home.

When they heard the front door open Regina took one last deep breath before what she knew would be a less than pleasant confrontation.

"Hey," Charlotte cheerfully greeted them, entirely oblivious to their solemn faces. "Amelia went to soccer practice—it should be over at like five, I think."

Her mothers didn't respond; they simply watched as she put her stuff down on and headed straight for a snack.

"I'm so hungry," the teenager opened the cabinet, grabbed a bag of chips and then sat down at the table. "And school was_ super _weird today. Did you know that Nan and Pop told everyone we were sick? Like, apparently Nan got Dr. Whale to write a note that said we had the flu. I guess it was a good idea… I mean, it _is _flu season. But everyone was asking me how I felt. And aren't people going to wonder why Mr. Gold is just _gone_? Have you guys thought about what you're going to say? I mean, I know he's not exactly going to be missed but…"

The couple merely stared at her—Emma's arms crossed, Regina's hands resting on her lap.

"Uh—hello?" Charlotte asked, as she munched. "Is something wrong? Why is no one else talking?"

"Emma?" Regina steadily turned to her wife. "Why _is_ no one else talking?"

"Because I have a goddamn headache," the blonde grumbled. "The worst headache _ever_."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Charlotte lowered her voice. "Are you alright? Do you think it's from the time travel? When did it start?"

"Uh, well, it first started hurting when I asked your mother if she remembered the time we stayed up all night baking a cake for your sixteenth birthday."

"Which, of course, I _do_ remember," Regina immediately followed. "Isn't that weird, Charlotte?"

"Um," the teenager nearly choked mid-chew and had to catch the crumbs falling out from her mouth. "_What_?"

"I mean," Regina continued, "how, on earth, could we possibly remember something like that…our memories were erased, after all. They were erased with a fairly permanent and powerful spell that I made myself. So it's really been quite a baffling afternoon."

"Do you seriously remember?" The teenager looked at her parents in awe, her still-full mouth hanging open. "Like, all of it?"

"Indeed, dear, we do. Do you have any idea _why_?"

"It worked," Charlotte stated, the pride clear in her tone. "I can't even believe it worked. I hoped it would but I didn't know and mom didn't say anything this morning so I sort of assumed it _didn't_."

"Dear, I'm not sure if you quite understand just how grounded you are."

"Grounded? No, but, it worked. I helped you."

"You used Cora's spell book, kid."

"You guys, I _had_ to."

"Oh, did you?" Regina mocked the defense. "Did you _also_ have to manipulate the younger version of your mom into being your accomplice?"

"It wasn't like it was hard to convince her. She wanted you both to remember."

"You went to her because you knew that version of her didn't know any better. You took advantage of her—and that's a pretty low-blow."

"It wasn't like that….I did what I had to do. Sometimes you guys can't see the big picture, even Henry knew that."

"Are you telling me that Henry knew about this?" Regina fumed at the possibility of her son's involvement. "Did he?"

"Well, no, not the Henry from now."

"Wait," she processed, "does that mean you roped eleven year old Henry into this debacle?"

"He wanted to help. He _asked_ if he could help."

"You involved a child—how very responsible of you. Did you also ask Amelia to join in while you fooled around with dangerous, uncharted magic?"

"Stop—mommy, no—you're overreacting. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't understand why you're not happy about this."

"Happy about _what_? Happy that you lied to us? Or that you were dabbling with my mother's spells without so much as mentioning it to me?"

"I didn't lie, technically."

"Do not even think about getting out of this on a technicality. You told me, to my face, that you weren't going to pull stunts like this. I was willing to let it go when you failed to tell us you were setting the other versions of us up on a date but _this _is an entirely different story."

"But…"

"No," Regina stopped her. "I need you to tell me,_ exactly_, what you did to make us remember."

"As if mom didn't _already_ tell you."

"First of all, I would highly advise you to drop the attitude. Second of all, your mom wasn't lying—it hurts her head to think about. She doesn't remember how you managed to pull this off."

"It's true," Emma confirmed. "I remember you did _something_ but it's really hazy."

"It's just like you said, I used Grandma's spell book."

"Which spell? It's a rather long book, darling."

"There was a spell in there to erase memories and then there was one on the next page that was basically like the antiserum, I guess. I made the spell and then I used it to enchant the letter you wrote—I thought it would hold the memories. Last night when you guys were asleep I read the letter out loud…..and, well, I guess, it worked."

"You had _no idea_ what the consequences or side effects of that spell could've been," Regina raged. "There are two realities in our heads right now—the same is true for your grandparents. We remember both ways that things happened."

"Isn't that a good thing, though?"

"In the choice between not remembering and using magic, we chose not to remember. We are the adults. We get to make that choice. You don't get to make choices like that. You could've harmed all of us. You could've harmed yourself and your siblings. You could've ruined everything."

"No, I used true love," Charlotte insisted. "_Your _true love for each other."

"True love isn't a free pass to do whatever the hell you want and think that it's always going to work out."

"But it _does_…it always works out."

"You sound like a naive little girl right now_. _Sometimes life _doesn't _work out the way you want it to. You've just been lucky enough to not have to live through that."

"Stop," Charlotte cowered under the intensity of her mother's gaze. "Please, stop."

"Stop telling you the truth? I _used_ to think that's what we did in this family."

"No—stop being mean."

"I'm not being mean. I'm giving you an apparently, much needed, reality check."

"No—you're being _so_ mean."

"Go upstairs," Regina instructed. "Your mom and I will need to have a discussion about how long you'll be grounded for but I know, for sure, it begins right now."

"You can't do this," Charlotte objected, finding her own voice again. "I _just_ got home. I just went back to school. I just saw all of my friends. You can't just put me in prison, _again_."

"I really don't know how you expect me to trust you after this. And I am truly mind-boggled at your level of inconsideration."

"Inconsideration? Are you serious? Who do you think I was considering when I did it? This is _so_ stupid. You're just mad because it's your mom's magic."

"It's_ dark_ magic, Charlotte. And you know that. You went behind my back because you _knew_ it was wrong."

"It didn't feel like dark magic to me."

"Because you don't know what dark magic feels like, do you?" Regina finally snapped and began to outright yell. "And that's because I made damn well sure you never had to. I didn't spend sixteen years of your life trying to protect you from it for you to go dig it up yourself."

"You are being so dramatic right now."

"Dramatic? This is the equivalent of a child with an alcoholic parent deciding to go binge drinking."

"Is that what this is about? You think I'm going to, like, turn evil?"

"The truth of the matter is you could."

"I seriously don't know why you even gave this to me," Charlotte ripped Cora's locket off her neck, breaking the chain in the process; she slammed it down on the counter. "Why would you even want me to have it if you think she's just going to, like, corrupt me from the beyond the grave, or something?"

"Alright, that's enough," Emma finally intervened. "I think you should really just go upstairs now, kid."

"Fine, whatever, I'll go sit in my room for _another_ two weeks staring at the wall. Because I haven't done enough of that lately."

The sound of Charlotte's footsteps echoed through the house as she stormed up the stairs and, moments later, slammed the door behind her.

"Are you okay?" Emma asked her wife. "That was, um, intense."

"Thanks so much for all your help," Regina sarcastically spat at her. "Your silence was entirely supportive. We presented quite the united front just now."

"Regina, look, I didn't mean to…"

"Save it," she hissed. "I don't want to hear it right now."

* * *

Emma knew Regina's cool off time was usually somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes.

She managed to wait twelve before she climbed the stairs to their bedroom.

She opened the bedroom door and expected to find her wife curled up under the covers. But the room was empty and, for a few seconds, Emma internally panicked.

But then she heard the sound of the shower running; despite that she knew Regina was in there to be alone and think, Emma marched into the bathroom.

"Talk to me," she demanded as she opened the shower door.

"I'm in the shower," Regina stated the obvious as she stared straight ahead, tears mixing with the water running down her face.

"Yes, thank you, I can see that."

"You're getting my floor wet, Emma."

"I've lived here for eighteen years, you know. I think it's my floor, too."

"Fine—then _you_ can replace them after you ruin them."

"Come out and talk to me."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not done _showering," _Regina finally turned to look at her,_ "_which is, after all_, _the whole purpose of the being in the shower to begin with."

"Ah, so, we're going to take this out on me? Is that the grand plan here?"

"Leave me alone."

"Yeah—no—we both know that's not going to happen."

"Go away."

"I'm going to do the opposite of go away actually," Emma sighed. She pulled her shirt and bra over her head and removed her leggings.

"What are you doing?" Regina looked appalled as she climbed into the shower. "I didn't invite you in here."

"I'm multi-tasking," Emma explained, as if the answer was rather obvious. She picked up a bottle of shampoo and squeezed a drop of it into her hands. Then she proceeded to run her hands through Regina's hair, lathering it up. "Apparently this shower is _really _important to you right now; the least I can do is help out."

"Emma," Regina tried, at first, to protest. "I'm not in the mood."

"Head back," she instructed in return. "Let's go."

Regina gave in—and let Emma wash her hair thoroughly as they stood underneath the water together.

"Now," Emma kissed her wife's nose when she was finally done, "talk to me."

"I am so angry at her," Regina caved. "I'm so mad at her."

"I know that."

"And I'm angry that you're _not_ angry at her."

"I am angry at her."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I promise you, I _am. _I'm the one she manipulated. She knew I was the weather link;she used me to get what she wanted—that pisses me off."

"Well, truthfully, you don't seem very angry to me."

"I think, maybe, I'm still processing. I thought I was done processing for the week and this whole thing caught me off-guard."

"Well, process faster," Regina snarled.

"Okay, I love you, but can you _please _stop snapping at me_?" _

"Our daughter lied to us and used dark magic. I need you to comprehend the gravity of the situation we are in right now."

"I know she did and she's in a shitload of trouble for it."

"And, yet, it sounds like you want to add something to that; it sounds like there's a 'but' at the end of that sentence."

"I guess as angry as I am, I just can't help but to feel bad for her—because of everything she's been through lately. I think she had a kneejerk reaction to a really shitty situation."

"What_ I_ think is that she inherited the tendency to make dangerously rash decisions under emotional duress."

"It's not like she killed anyone."

"We have to stop her from going down this path," Regina desperately pleaded. "She very well could have killed someone."

"You have to stop saying things like that. It's not helping. She's not turning into your mother just because she found some spell in that stupid book."

"But…"

"No, look, I agree completely that she screwed up—I agree that this is a serious problem that merits her being grounded—but Charlotte is still the best kid I know."

"I know she is and I want her to stay that way. I don't want her to think that I believe she has some innately evil gene in her but I _do_ worry about her."

"Because she's related to Cora?"

"Amongst others."

"Because she's related to _you_?" Emma realized. "Come on, you can't be serious."

"I am serious."

"This is reminding me of the panic attack you had in your second trimester with her…when you woke me up in the middle of the night screaming that our kid was going to be all messed up because of you."

"I recall that night well."

"Yeah and it's been _forever _since you thought crap like that. This is all getting kicked up because you just had to come face-to-face with yourself from the past."

"I don't know—perhaps."

"Our kid is the least messed up kid of all. Granted today might not be the best example of that…."

"_Dark_ magic, Emma," Regina repeated, as if she still couldn't process it. "Dark magic and our daughter."

"I know a few _good_ people who used dark magic a time or two when the situation called for it."

"I'm just worried."

"I know that and I am sorry I stood there like a moron when you were trying to talk to Charlotte about why she's in trouble. I honestly didn't know what to do because I've never seen the two of you argue like that and it was so weird to watch. I froze."

"I didn't enjoy yelling at her in the least bit."

Emma jumped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She offered her hand to her wife and helped her out as well.

"Can I say something without you getting mad?" She asked, as she engulfed Regina in a towel of her own.

"No promises—but, go on."

"Despite _how_ it happened, I'm really glad I remember how in love with you I was. And despite the fact that I know you're not going to admit it, I think you are too."

"No, I_ am_ glad," Regina admitted without an ounce of hesitation. "That's what makes this whole thing so much worse. In between panicking about Charlotte I'm remembering how happy you made me during a time I was so miserable and it's entirely overwhelming."

"It sort of comes in waves, the memories. But they're all right there."

"It's like my love for you has suddenly doubled. I can't believe how good you were to me. I can't believe any of this."

"I was, like, disgustingly in love with you for a two week time period."

"Do you even understand how genius Charlotte is? She preserved the timeline _and_ made it so we eventually got to know everything that happened. She essentially synced us up with those memories. She thought of something I should've been able to think of myself and I never even considered it."

"So, maybe it's not the_ evil_ she picked up from you," Emma teased, "maybe it's just the_ genius_ part."

"Do you think I need to apologize to her?" Regina questioned. "Was I too harsh?"

Emma hadn't seen insecure Regina in quite some time—it must be another side effect of their trip, she decided. Because Regina was the most confident mother around—yet, here she was, questioning her instincts.

"No, for once, I think she needed the tough love. She's going to be forced to really think about how this could've gone wrong. And I'm assuming it could have, yeah?"

"Yes, it could have. It could have gone _terribly _wrong."

* * *

"We brought dinner," David announced, as he walked into the kitchen with Snow, holding bags of take-out in both hands. "So, I hope you're hungry."

"Thanks, we totally are," Emma took the bags from her father and recognized the smell of Granny's burger immediately. "Except Charlotte… she's on a hunger strike, or something."

"She's on a what?" Mary-Margaret questioned. "A hunger strike?"

"She's 'not hungry'," Regina explained. "Which, roughly translated, means she doesn't feel like dealing with us because we grounded her."

"Oh," Snow processed. "Has she ever been grounded before?"

"Nope," Emma confirmed. "There's a first time for everything, apparently."

"Actually, will you two take a plate upstairs for her?" Regina requested. "I'm not comfortable with her skipping dinner, even if she's going to hide out in her room all night."

"Of course, we'd be happy too."

* * *

Snow and Charming stood outside their grand-daughter's bedroom. They knocked twice before hearing a very firm, "_leave me alone,"_ from the other side.

"Charlotte, it's us," Snow clarified, assuming that it was her parents the girl was avoiding. "Can we please come in for a minute?"

They heard silence at first. But then, seconds later, the door opened.

"You can come in—I thought you were my moms."

"So," David said, as the couple walked into the room. "We heard you're in a little trouble."

"A little," the teenager scoffed. "Yeah—you could say that."

"Your moms wanted us to bring you this," Snow said, as she handed Charlotte her dinner.

"Why?"

"Because despite how angry they are, they still want to make sure you're fed."

"Thanks."

Charlotte sat down on the bed and began to play with her food, eventually taking small bites.

"Are you alright?" David asked, as he watched the pained expression on her face.

"I don't think so. I'm feeling very emotional. I was hungry but now I'm not."

"I think that's normal considering what you just went through."

"She is literally so mad at me," Charlotte put the food down on her night stand, giving up the attempt to eat. "I've _never_ seen her so mad."

"You know, I've known her the longest out of anyone in this family," Snow said, understanding immediately which mother Charlotte was referencing. "I don't claim to know her better than my daughter does…but I think I know her pretty well. And I know that her anger comes from a really, really loving place. She loves you and she's worried that you would pull something like this. It really worries her that you would lie about using Cora's magic."

"Was Cora _really_ that bad?" Charlotte questioned, her voice full of innocent curiosity. "It's just a spell book—I've been using spell books since I was old enough to talk. It's just because it's Cora's that she's so freaked. "

"Yes, Cora was that bad. And your mother is reminded of that every time she looks in the mirror and she sees the scars on her body."

Charlotte audibly winced at the comment. "Maybe I'm just now processing the fact that…"

"That what?" David encouraged. "You can talk to us."

"Leopold…Cora….I don't know…she's been through so much. So has mom. So have you guys. Maybe I _am _naive. I didn't even really think of the possibility that it wouldn't work out exactly like I wanted to."

"Charlotte you're a bundle of true love," Mary-Margaret gave her a reassuring smile. "That optimism is exactly what makes you who you are. Your moms don't want you to ever lose that."

"I know."

"You want to know why your mom is so upset—it's because she's seen magic change so many people—her mother, herself, me—it almost ruined her relationship with Henry."

"But I was just trying to help them."

"Honestly, I _know _that you were. But there's always a justification with dark magic—that's why it's so dangerous."

"What do you mean?"

"Dark magic never seems wrong, at the time," Snow continued. "Cora was only trying to provide for Regina, Regina was only trying to escape a life she was trapped in, I was only trying to protect my family."

"I guess that's true. I never thought of it like that. I just wanted to fix it. They're always fixing stuff for me."

"Everything is going to be fine," David promised her."Neither one of your moms is very good at staying mad at you, you know."

"I hope so because I really just want to leave this damn house."

"Can you please try to eat this?" Snow pleaded, offering her the plate once more. "I don't want to go back downstairs and tell them you wouldn't try."

"Alright," Charlotte gave in. "I'll try."


	20. Closure

**Your update is here! There will be one more chapter and an epilogue and I will definitely get it done before the premier. All mistakes are mine- and thank you for sticking with me for so long. I really appreciate it :) Hope you enjoy the wrap up.**

* * *

"Emma," Regina demanded, as she rolled her naked body on top of her wife's equally bare form. "_Again_."

"Are you like trying to break a world record for most orgasms in a single afternoon, or something?" Emma panted beneath her. "Because I think you should've warned me beforehand."

The day that Emma had been promising had finally arrived, and Regina was intent on soaking in every last second of it. It had become increasingly rare for them to get uninterrupted time like this together—and after what they had been through recently, it somehow felt even more precious.

"What's wrong, love?" She arched an eye-brow as their bodies, covered in a thin layer of sweat, pressed together. "Are you saying you can't handle it?"

"No, I just can't breathe," the savior huffed. "You seriously out did yourself on that last round."

"What happened to your number one rule? What was it again?" The brunette mocked, doing her best impression of her wife. "Have sex with Regina whenever possible, wasn't it?"

"I'm dead. You finally killed me," Emma lovingly buried her face into the crook of her neck. "But it was a really, really great way to die—best way to die ever, actually."

"I thought_ I_ was the dramatic one in this relationship," Regina said, as she tenderly kissed Emma's jawline. "And, frankly, I don't see the problem here, my little weakling."

"There isn't a problem," Emma promised, finally regaining her breath. "Except that we have to be at Amelia's soccer game in a little while and I legitimately can't move a single muscle."

"Ah," Regina remembered, as she glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. "Well that, my dear, _is_ a valid point. I suppose we have managed to get a little bit carried away."

"Plus," Emma added, "I have to pick Charlotte up from school before we go. I told her she could drive home today."

The statement brought Regina back to reality—the reality of current events—the revelation of her daughter's deceit and their first real fight—it reminded her of the way the teenager stubbornly refused to come down stairs all night and sought comfort with her grandparents.

"Charlotte is grounded," she stated, matter-of-factly, as she rolled back to her side of the bed. "And you know that."

"Does that mean she can't practice driving?" Emma asked, looking genuinely confused. "Uh, I didn't realize that. I sort of already told her she could…"

"I guess we hadn't really talked about it," Regina realized, signaling to Emma that she wasn't angry over the confusion. "I guess we should've."

"I'm sorry, I just didn't think it was part of her punishment. I mean, it's only a few blocks and she needs the practice."

"That's fine," Regina gave in—because it was too late now—if Emma had already approved it, she couldn't exactly contradict that decision.

"You could come with me to pick her up, if you want," her wife offered, and Regina recognized the pity in her eyes. The blonde was obviously disoriented by the unusual family rift and was doing everything in her power to rectify the situation. "We could have her drive us to the game. She could do her homework there."

"I'm not sure about that."

"But we always go to the games together," Emma nearly pouted. "Do you really want to leave her at home?"

"No, of course not. You know perfectly well I don't _want_ any of this."

"So, just think about it, huh?"

"Alright," Regina agreed, somewhat reluctantly; Emma got up from bed and sauntered towards the bathroom. "Charlotte can come to the game with us. I can see how it's a probably a good idea. Like you said, she can do her homework and get some fresh air, it's not exactly the equivalent of going to a party."

"_Regina_," Emma suddenly stuck her head out after looking in the mirror. "What the hell did you do? It looks like you ate my neck!"

"Oh," she innocently batted her eye-lashes, "I almost forgot about that."

"Don't you think we might be a little too old for hickeys?"

"You're never too old to be marked as mine."

"Well, I'm not disagreeing or anything," Emma nearly skipped back over to the bed. She stood above Regina and placed her hands on her wife's shoulders. "But I think that by now, just _maybe_, people have gotten the memo that I'm yours."

"Oops," she shrugged, entirely unapologetically, in reply. "Oh well."

"I'm really glad to see someone is feeling a little more like herself today."

"I believe I am, yes. I wonder what did the trick..."

"Whoa," Emma feigned shock, "I'm getting credit for your good mood?!"

"I needed this day of just _us_; I needed it more than I even realized."

"Me too," Emma assured her. "And, hey, remember that time we were about to have sex but then older versions of us pulled me off of you?"

"Oh, yes. I remember that rather vividly."

"I know it took like two decades, but did I make up for it?"

"I think you've _more_ than made up for it."

"You know, if we're going straight to the game from school with Charlotte….we _might _have time for one more round…"

"Oh, really?" Regina teased. "So, then, I take it someone's not as dead as she first thought?"

"Oh, I'm still dead. I guess I'm a zombie. This is going to be zombie sex."

"Very well," Regina pulled her wife back down onto her lap. "Zombie sex it is."

* * *

Regina sat awkwardly in the back seat of Charlotte's new car. From the moment her daughter got into the vehicle, the tension was almost unbearable for all three of them.

It was made worse when the teenager's foot hit the gas pedal, and the car roared in reply without moving.

"Uh," Emma, who sat in the front passenger side, looked at their daughter skeptically, "you have to take the car out of park first or we're not going to move."

"Right, yeah, I know that."

"You_ do _know that, kid. So, what's wrong with you?"

"I can't concentrate," Charlotte declared, as she gripped the steering wheel tightly. "I can't concentrate at all."

"Why not?" Emma pushed. "What's going on?"

"Because mommy is giving me the silent treatment."

It took all the strength Regina had not to sigh out loud. Maybe, she realized, this wasn't the best idea after all.

"She is not giving you the silent treatment."

"Then how come you just answered for her?" Charlotte rebutted. "I can't drive when she's just sitting in the back seat all mad at me. How do you expect me to drive like this?"

Emma fell silent—and Regina knew, without Emma so much as moving, that her wife needed her to intervene. It was just as well, because she had enough of them speaking about her like she wasn't sitting right there.

"I _am _mad at you," Regina reiterated to her daughter. "But I love you. Those facts are not mutually exclusive….just ask your mom."

"Yeah, that's totally true," Emma quickly backed her up. "She gets mad at me all the time and I know she's never stopped loving me."

"That doesn't help me concentrate," Charlotte whined. "And the last thing we need right now is to die in a car crash."

Regina leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her daughter's cheek. When she pulled back, her bright red lipstick remained. Emma smirked and lovingly wiped it off.

"Calm down, Charlotte," Regina soothed, as she re-positioned herself in her seat. "I am _not _giving you the silent treatment, okay? You _are_ in trouble but I also respect the fact that you have been stuck in the house for quite some time. Your mom and I thought bringing you to the game was a nice compromise. And you are perfectly capable of driving us three blocks without crashing this car."

"Okay," the girl finally relaxed, though she kept her words to a minimum.

"Cool," Emma said. "Good—so, uh, you want to take the car out of park now?"

"Yes, Mom."

* * *

When Charlotte drove into the parking lot, she pulled right into the spot next to her grandmother's car. She took the keys out of the ignition, jumped out as fast as possible, and sprinted to Mary-Margaret's side.

Inside the car, Emma turned to face her wife. "You alright back there?"

"I'm usually the one she's running to, not away from."

"I don't think that's it—I think she doesn't know how to deal with you being upset—she's shutting down."

"Let's just try to enjoy watching Amelia," Regina decided. "She was excited to get back to playing."

Emma nodded—and they exited the car in unison.

"The sun is strong today," Emma complained, as she played with scarf covering her neck. "I didn't know it was supposed to be warm."

"Take that thing off," her mother told her, before so much as greeting her. "You don't need it."

"Uh, yeah, I think I'm good."

"You look a little bit ridiculous, sweetheart."

"But doesn't she _always_?" Regina joked, as she took a cooler filled with Gatorade out of the trunk. "Emma, help me carry this across the field? I told your father I'd bring the refreshments and I want to go wish Amelia good luck before she starts."

"You know he's always telling us not to go over there once they've started warming-up."

"Oh, I'm sorry dear, does it look like I care?"

"Not so much," Emma smiled, as she took the cooler from her wife. "I'll carry it…let's make it quick before we get in trouble."

"They seem happier today," Snow observed, as the two women walked away. "And I didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah, well," Charlotte shuffled her feet. "I guess they let me out of solitary confinement."

"How are you holding up?"

"I don't know…school was a good distraction," she paused, briefly—her eyes following both of her parents. "Mom _can't _take her scarf off, you know."

"Why not?"

"Do the math."

"What math?"

"Neither of them went into work today and now mom is wearing a scarf."

"So?"

"Nan, she is worse at hiding hickeys then the girls in my class."

"Oh God," Snow rolled her eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Welcome to my life."

"For the record, sweetheart, I've been putting up with them for_ a lot_ longer than you have."

"I guess that's technically true."

The couple made their way back across the field. Charlotte quickly found her way to Emma's side, leaving Regina a few steps behind with her mother-in-law.

_"Regina," _Snow slightly slapped her shoulder. "You're in trouble."

"Whatever for?"

"Assaulting my daughter's neck."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right, uh-huh, I'm sure you don't."

"Actually," she corrected, "your daughter and I had quite the day today."

"All these years later, and you still don't seem to understand how much I don't want to know that."

"All these years later, and you still don't seem to understand how much I enjoy watching you look so uncomfortable," Regina grinned, proudly. "Come on, I want to be in the front row."

* * *

Regina took her seat next to Charlotte, who sat with a binder in her lap on the bleachers. Emma, as was the tradition, stood with her arms-crossed on the sidelines. The blonde was notorious for pacing back and forth during particularly close games.

"Welcome back, Charlotte," the voice of a middle-aged woman spoke, before sitting down in the row directly behind them.

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Cooper," the girl looked up and greeted her classmate's mother. "Thank you."

"How are you feeling?" The woman, who was dressed in a dark green track-suit, inquired.

"I'm much better."

"The rumors were flying that the whole family was quite sick."

"Yeah, it was gross," Emma confirmed. "But we're all fine now."

"A two week long flu must've been terrible, though."

"Indeed, it was," Regina said. "It's not something I'd like to relive anytime soon."

"The town was lost without its fearless leaders. Are you very behind with work, Charlotte?"

"Sort of," Charlotte admitted, "but I'll catch up."

"I'm sure you will. You've got magic, after all."

Regina instinctively placed her arm protectively around her daughter at the mention of magic. She was about to speak, but Charlotte beat her to it.

"I don't use magic to do my homework."

"Right," Mrs. Cooper nodded cynically. "You have to admit it _is_ a little baffling though, that 'true love' can create you but not cure you from a simple flu."

"Uh, y-yeah," Charlotte fumbled, "I guess so."

"There was nothing simple about this flu," Regina retorted, in a fiercely defensive tone. "And there are some things in life Dr. Whale is more qualified to handle."

"More qualified than the savior and the queen?" The woman scoffed. "He must be one talented doctor."

"He is," Regina bit her tongue, not wanting to cause a scene—the referee on the field blew his whistle, and she tried her best to focus on the start of the game.

"In any case," Mrs. Cooper continued, "it was nice for someone else on the team to have a turn with the ball while Amelia was gone."

"I'm sorry, 'cause honestly, I was only half-listening to this conversation," Emma turned around, her back now facing the field. "But did you just imply you were grateful for my five-year-old being sick?"

"No, of course not. I'm only saying it was nice for some of the other kids to get attention. You know, kids who don't get the benefit of having their grandfather coach the team."

Mary-Margaret shifted uncomfortably at the suggestion of her husband's favoritism. But it was Emma who took the lead on the response. "Why don't you just focus on the game, huh?" The blonde rolled her eyes. "I heard they lost the last three without my attention-hogging kid, yeah?"

Regina studied her daughter closely while her wife spoke—she knew Charlotte well-enough to know she wasn't reading the notes that sat on her lap—the girl's eyes focused on the same words over and over.

"I believe I left my phone in the car," Regina suddenly announced, searching for any excuse to get up. "Charlotte, will you walk with me?"

"Um, sure."

Charlotte followed her and they strolled in silence back towards the parking lot, their arms swinging in sync with each other.

"Are you alright?" Regina broke the tension, once they were out of ear-shot of the bleachers.

"I'm fine."

"She was rude. Who is she? I didn't recognize her."

"Patrick's mom," Charlotte informed her. "He'd be valedictorian if I died, so I'm pretty sure she wants me dead. I'm not surprised she was rooting for the flu. I don't know why she had to bring Amelia into it. I guess she also doesn't like that Amelia is better than her daughter at soccer."

"Her opinion is meaningless. It's not our fault she has inadequate children."

"It's really not a big deal. Patrick is actually nice. I feel sort of bad for him. I don't think it's easy to have her as a mom."

"Ah," Regina said, as they reached the car. "And I imagine you can sympathize with that."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think it's exactly been easy to be _my_ daughter."

It was an insecurity she hadn't suffered from in quite some time, but one that had seemingly resurfaced overnight.

"Henry told me a long time ago that being in this family was basically the equivalent of being the child of two celebrities. But I think the perks outweigh the occasional downfalls. I can't say I've had many complaints about it."

"Until recently," Regina corrected.

"Well," Charlotte leaned her weight against the car, "I don't like being grounded."

"And I don't like yelling at you. So, I guess neither of us is happy at the moment."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you, though?" Regina asked. "Because I know you're sorry you upset me and you're sorry you're in trouble. But are you sorry that you did it?"

"Yes," the teenager replied—her eyes staring straight down at the ground.

"Charlotte, come now, I want the truth."

"Then, I guess, honestly...no, I'm not really that sorry."

"That's precisely what I suspected."

"You deserve to know what happened between you and mom," Charlotte looked up, a desperation for understanding written all over her face. "After everything the two of you have gone through you _at least_ deserve that."

"Since you gave me the truth, I'm going to give you the truth back. That only seems fair, yes?"

"Yeah, it does."

"I am glad I remember what happened. And I am, slightly, impressed by how you figured out how to make that happen."

"Thanks."

"_But, _I cannot even express to you how much your recent behavior is scaring me. Or how much it hurts that you didn't come to me or to your mom. If you had a good idea, you should've told us."

"You wouldn't have listened to me. You get _really_ weird about your mother."

"Look," Regina said, "this special relationship we have ...you me and your mom... it isn't going to work for much longer if you only come to us with things that are comfortable."

"I know."

"I've never had to be the disciplinary with you, because you've never needed it. You know that I don't have many friends—you know that your mom, Henry, Amelia and you...you guys are my best friends. But at the end of the day, being your parent comes first and I'm going to keep switching into that mode if you keep giving me a reason to."

"I get it," Charlotte swore. "I really do."

"I want you to know," Regina took Cora's necklace out of her pocket—she had repaired the broken item with magic- "that I _did_ mean what I said when I gave you this."

"You fixed it—I didn't mean to break it—I really didn't."

"I'd like you to have it."

"No, I don't want to wear it if it's only going to make you sad," Charlotte insisted. "Nan reminded me last night about how things were between you and Cora and I should've been more sensitive about digging around in your past."

"It's not going to upset me. The Charming side of your family is what's usually on display to the world. I think that it would be nice to see the Mills side just a little bit."

"I'd like that," Charlotte took the gift and swiftly placed it back around her neck. "But I think people see the Mills side whenever they look at me. I still can't get over the picture of you in here...my face is your face."

"I know—it's quite remarkable."

"Mommy," Charlotte meekly spoke, "can we go back to the whole honesty thing for a minute?"

"Of course."

"I think the trip impacted more than I first thought."

"What do you mean? What's on your mind?"

"Cora," Charlotte admitted. "You and mom hating each other. Nan and pop hating you. I mean, even..."

"Leopold," Regina understood—and for once his name left her mouth with ease, for once she felt ready to have the conversation. "It's okay, love. We can talk about anything you want to talk about. I understand it's a lot to take in."

"Can I use the time-travel to travel back in time and punch him in the face?"

"Come here," Regina brought her close and hugged her. "I love you."

"I'm sorry."

And Regina understood this apology was genuine—it was an apology for what she had been through—an apology for all of the pain and suffering the family had endured before Charlotte's existence was even a possibility.

"I think the trip impacted me more than I first thought, too," Regina told her. "And I think part of why I got so upset yesterday was because of how close I just was to a version of me that wasn't quite the person I am now. Sometimes I just want to hide you from everything bad in this world. And dark magic is definitely on that list."

"I'm_ not_ going to use it."

"I know that; I trust you."

"You still do? Really?"

"Yes—just, please, don't make me have to change my mind."

"I won't."

Regina felt her whole world shift back into place as Charlotte squeezed her tighter. "Would you mind if we missed the rest of the game? I want to go for a drive with you."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere I probably should've taken you a long time ago."

* * *

Regina couldn't remember the last time she had been down here—but she thought it was probably before Neverland. It still felt as cold and looked as dark as ever—and she felt a little like her past was about to sneak up behind her and pull her back in the depths of her misery.

But then she looked over at Charlotte and she remembered why she was here—she remembered why she was standing over Cora's coffin.

"Mother," Regina spoke, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible, "this is your granddaughter, Charlotte."

"Yeah," Charlotte whispered, "uh, I sort of talked to her the other night."

"What do you mean, dear?"

"When I used the spell, I asked your mom if she could make it work so you guys could remember."

"Ah… so then, mother, apparently you've already met."

"Thank you for the help," Charlotte said—as she placed her palm on the coffin. "Turns out, it worked pretty well even though I got in major trouble."

"She's beautiful, isn't she? She got all of my best qualities and I suppose Emma contributed, too. Emma Swan, that is, in case you haven't figured that out by now. Though I'm sure you have. I'm quite certain you were seething somewhere when we first got together."

"No," Charlotte protested, "I'd like to think the fact that you put her heart back in before she died means she is really happy for you and mom."

"Perhaps you're right. I'd like to believe that, too."

"You couldn't rip my mom's heart out because she's your daughter's true love," Charlotte continued speaking to her grandmother. "So, I mean, there's nothing you could've done to even stop it."

Regina thought back something that she had yelled at Charlotte the night before—she had told her daughter she was naive. And, Regina realized, that was most certainly true. Charlotte still didn't quite understand. She didn't understand that had Cora been alive, she would've likely tried and tried to pull the queen and the savior apart.

But Regina decided there were worse fates in the world than a positive outlook; she knew that better than anyone.

"No matter how bad it got between us, mother, I still tried to be what you wanted me to be. I tried right up until Neverland. And then I just let it go. Maybe I let you go a little too much. I didn't mean to sweep you under the rug. I just needed to piece my life back together. I needed a new chapter."

She felt Charlotte grab her hand, giving her the strength to keep going. "And just so you know, I _have_ forgiven you. How could I not? My life is everything I ever wanted it to be. I do love you. And Charlotte loves you too...though I'm quite sure you've done nothing to deserve her love."

"She gave me you," Charlotte objected to the premise. "She did more than enough."

"God, Charlotte, you are just too much sometimes. "

"Thank you for bringing me here, Mommy. I'm really glad we came."

"You're welcome. Bu if it's alright with you, I'd like to go home. This conversation has made me miss your mom terribly."

Regina waited for the usual teasing—for Charlotte to roll her eyes and accuse her of having separation anxiety—to laugh at her constant need to be at Emma's side.

"Yeah," Charlotte agreed, instead. "It made me really miss her, too."

Together they walked through the hollow halls; mother and daughter both equally as anxious to set their sights on a certain blonde savior they both called home.


	21. Reflections

**As promised, the last chapter! Well, sort of. There is going to be an epilogue that I actually think you will all really enjoy. So, because of that, I'm going to save all my sappy thank yous for the REAL last chapter. For now, I will just say- I appreciate all of you so much! Oh, and HAPPY SEASON THREE NIGHT! Also- if you guys are interested in the idea of future one-shots with this family, please let me know. Some of you have mentioned that and I'm curious. Enjoy! **

* * *

The first thing Regina noticed when she walked into her kitchen was three, recently used, ice-packs sitting on the table in front of Snow White.

Her eyes instantly searched the room for her youngest child; her stomach churned as she mentally pictured Amelia taking a soccer ball to her angelic face.

"What happened?" She demanded as she spun, dramatically, on her heels. "Is Amelia hurt? Did something happen at the game?"

"Amelia is fine," Emma promised, as she realized how the situation appeared to her wife. "She's not hurt and she scored five goals today."

"Then what's with all the ice, mom?" Charlotte asked, equally as curious as to what, exactly, they had come home to.

"Well, uh, you see, something _did_ happen at the game. It just wasn't with our little star."

"It was me," Snow admitted, voice shaking. She lifted her arm from her lap, revealing a swollen hand—she placed it, cut and bright red, back on the ice in front of her.

"What on earth?" Regina wondered how it was even possible that her mother-in-law ended up so injured from the side-lines. "What did you do to yourself?"

Mary-Margaret didn't answer the question posed to her. Instead, she sat looking quite like a child waiting to be reprimanded.

"Here's the thing," Emma explained on her mother's behalf, "after you guys left...that obnoxious woman wouldn't shut up. And, uh, my mom sort of ended up punching her..."

"You_ punched _Mrs. Cooper?" Regina repeated the nearly-unbelievable information. "Did you, really?"

"I might have," Snow meekly replied, her eye-line not lifting up from her lap.

"Seriously? Nan?" It was Charlotte's turn to be astounded. "_You_ punched her? Like, in the face? That's kind of awesome."

"Kid, right about now is where I should _probably_ tell you violence isn't the answer. But, in this particular case, I just can't bring myself too. Honestly, it _was _kind of awesome."

Regina approached the table, sat down next to Snow and gently examined the woman's injury. "I can easily heal this, if you'd like," she told her. "It wouldn't be a problem."

"That isn't necessary," Mary-Margaret stubbornly insisted, "I'm fine…it's _really_ fine."

"It doesn't look fine, dear. It looks terrible and rather painful."

"Yeah," Emma lightly teased, "but you should see Mrs. Cooper's face."

"Please stop sounding _proud,_" her mother scolded in response to the attempted humor. "I work at that school and I punched a mother in the middle of a little league soccer game. I'm absolutely mortified—my behavior was inexcusable. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Wait, Nan," Charlotte interrupted, sounding suddenly concerned, "are you going to get fired, or something?"

"No, love, somehow I don't think the school is going to fire Snow White," Regina assured her daughter. "I think her job is perfectly safe."

"My job might be safe, but that's _not_ the point. I still shouldn't have done it. I don't know what kind of example I'm setting. Amelia was right on the field."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have done it," Regina acknowledged. "But as for the example you're setting: as you can see, Charlotte, your grandmother is quite the badass when she's correctly provoked."

"True," Emma agreed. "Although she's usually better with a bow and arrow than with her fists….this was, um, a bit unexpected."

"What, exactly, did Mrs. Cooper say that made you snap, dear?"

"She wouldn't stop suggesting that David plays favorites with the team and that's so not true. If anything he is harder on Amelia than anyone else. We all know he benches her for no reason other than to make sure people _don't_ think he plays favorites!"

"But that's not why you punched her," Regina knew. She knew that Snow could handle people talking badly about her husband. She knew there had to be more to the story. "What did she say _right_ before you punched her? What was the final straw?"

Snow fell silent—and glanced, sideways, towards Emma.

"It was about me, wasn't it?" Charlotte surmised from the wordless exchange. "Whatever she said, I can take it. I already know what she thinks of me."

"Go on," Regina encouraged. "Charlotte is right; she can take it."

"She wouldn't stop insinuating that Charlotte and Amelia get everything through magic. And she was being really loud and I asked her, nicely, to stop and she wouldn't. She kept saying it louder. I just lost it. "

"_Please_," Regina scoffed at the idea, "magic has not once given either of them a single academic or athletic benefit."

"She thinks I just am better at life because there's magic inside of me," Charlotte understood the argument—had heard it a million times before. "She thinks it's unfair, or whatever."

"You _are_ better at life than most people I know, kid—but you've never had an unfair advantage. It's like my mom said, if anything people are _way _harder on you guys."

"I don't really care what people think," Charlotte's attempt at confidence was entirely unconvincing. "She's not the first or the last person to talk about me or say I'm freak because I've got two magic moms."

"Oh, that's right, and I forgot to mention," Snow recollected, "she also called Emma 'princess of the lesbians.'"

"Yeah but, for the record, I wasn't necessarily insulted by that title."

"It was _how_ she said it that bothered me, Emma."

"She was trying to reduce you to the fact that you fell in love with a woman," Regina fumed. "That is unacceptable. I may have just punched her myself had I been there."

"She's clearly a bitter person," Emma decided. "And now she's got a well-deserved black-eye to match."

"She may have deserved it, but I'm still embarrassed that I did it," Snow sighed. "Do you think we can go a single week without being the talk of this town? Just _one _week?"

"It seems unlikely at this point, mom. I say, we might as well embrace it. Don't you think, Regina?"

"Indeed. I would say it's really our only option."

Charlotte laughed, heartily, at the three women—the three women who had, undoubtedly, shaped her into the young woman she was.

She looked at them closely, pleased to see them as happy as she had always known them—at least, these version of them, to be.

"I'm going to go change into sweats before dinner," she said. "Thank you for defending my honor, Nan. I'm sorry about your hand. If you change your mind about wanting someone to heal it…."

"I know where you find you," Snow nodded appreciatively at her. "Have I mentioned how glad I am that you're home safe?"

"A few times now, yes."

"You'll have to forgive me if I say it a few more times for good measure."

"I will," Charlotte vowed, before turning to Emma. "Oh, and, mom?"

"What's up, kid?"

"Thank you for letting me come to the game," she approached her and embraced her in a tighter-than-usual hug before affectionately and repetitively kissing her cheek. "Mommy told me that it was your idea."

"Oh, you're welcome."

Regina watched the exchange from the table at first.

But after mere seconds she decided she simply couldn't resist. She got up and joined the embrace before sloppily kissing her wife on her other cheek.

"Um," Emma happily basked in their joint affection, "did I miss something here? What did I do right?"

"We just love you, Mom."

"Is that a crime, Sheriff?"

"No, it's definitely not. And I wasn't complaining."

"You know," Charlotte mused when she finally let her mom go. "Today turned out way better than I expected it too."

"I'm glad, kid. Now, go on and change—dinner should be ready in about a half hour and we know you've got a lot of work to catch up on."

Charlotte nearly skipped up the staircase to her bedroom.

* * *

"So, where did my girls sneak off to during the game, anyway?" Emma asked, once Charlotte was upstairs. "Your 'be home later' texts weren't very descriptive, you know."

"I know; I'm sorry that we left rather quickly. But I actually took Charlotte to visit my mother's grave."

"You did?" Emma raised a brow at the unexpected response. "Shit, that's a big deal."

"Are you okay?" Mary-Margaret followed-up. "You haven't been back there in a long time, have you?"

"No, I haven't been there in a very long time. But, yes, I'm okay."

"God, Regina," Emma did nothing to hide the guilt she was so obviously feeling, "I would've gone with you had I known _that's_ what you were doing."

"I know you would have. But it was a spur of the moment decision, I promise. And I think it was something that I needed to do alone. I know, for us, those occasions are very rare but it just, I don't know, felt right."

"No, I completely get it. What made you take her today, though?"

"She told me she was afraid to talk to me about the spell because I get 'weird' about my mother. I know, partially, that's just an excuse. But maybe it's also partially true."

"It's a little true," Emma sheepishly admitted. "You do get weird about Cora. But Charlotte still could've come to me about the spell—the older me—the me who wasn't a moron about magic, you know?"

"You're right. I just thought maybe she was flippant about Cora's magic because I made it seem so inaccessible. Charlotte has always known what happened in this family—she's always known the _facts_. But whenever we've talked about my mother, all I've ever really done is spit out the lines we rehearsed in our bedroom."

"God, I'm so proud of you," Emma gushed at the words, "you going there today was a really brave thing and it probably helped Charlotte a lot."

"And speaking of helping her, I think we're _all_ going to need to be there for her a little bit more than usual in the next few weeks. She seems more curious than ever about the past. She has more questions—about all of it, about everything."

"She was also upset really upset last night," Snow shared, figuring this was the best time to mention it. "Right before she fell asleep she asked David how long we had to pretend to care about Regina when you two started dating before we actually started to care…"

"Shit," Emma cursed. "Are you kidding me? What did he say to her?"

"He said that this family has always cared about each other, even when we weren't getting along. But I'm not sure if she believed us."

"Perhaps she should talk to Archie?" Regina offered.

"She won't like that at all," Emma knew. "Miss-type-A-perfection isn't going to enjoy talking to a shrink—in fact, she will probably freak at the suggestion alone."

"We could have Henry tell her how helpful it was to him after Neverland."

"Do you think she has post-traumatic stress, Regina?" The savior asked. "Like Henry did?"

"Not exactly…nothing like Henry had," Regina promised. "I think she's just going to need a safe space to think about all of this—a safe space to talk about and process what she's been through."

"Alright. We'll talk to her as much as she needs us to, yeah?—and maybe we'll gently float the whole Archie idea. But we'll get her through this, no matter what. It's nothing we can't handle."

"Emma," Regina switched gears, hoping to get answers to the last part of this that was lingering on her mind, "on a scale of one to ten, how pathetic would it be if I un-grounded her after a single day?"

"I don't think it would be pathetic at all," her wife responded without missing a single beat.

"She's never going to take me seriously. But I can't stay mad at her. What happened to me? I used to be such a…"

"Hard-ass?" Emma finished the thought. "Yeah, I don't know…but I think Charlotte took you pretty seriously when you were screaming at her."

"I suppose."

"Did you talk it out?"

"We did."

"Does she understand why we're upset with her?"

"Yes, I believe she genuinely does."

"Then, personally, I would love if we could all just move on."

"So, you think we _should_ un-ground her?"

"I just want to move on," Emma desperately repeated. "And I think Charlotte being grounded is forcing us all to dwell. But I will let this be your call. I'll support whatever you think is best. You always know what to do."

"But I _don't_ know what to do here. I don't know what the right thing is."

"Stop second-guessing yourself. What is your gut telling you?"

"My gut isn't saying much of anything," Regina frowned. "Snow, what do you think?"

"Me?" The injured woman tentatively replied, certain she had heard incorrectly.

"Yes, you. Do you think we should stick to her grounding or not?"

"You're asking me for my opinion?" Mary-Margaret had been a part of this family from the beginning. But she had never, once, been so directly involved in a parenting matter like such as this. "On Charlotte?"

"Well, you _did_ just punch someone in the face on my family's behalf."

"In that case," Snow collected herself enough to answer, "I don't think you have to be worried about Charlotte not taking you seriously. She takes you more seriously than anyone in the world; even the thought of disappointing you is enough to scare her half to death. And I think it's worse for Charlotte to be stuck in her room right now obsessing over what she saw and what she did. I think it's better for her to get back into her normal routine."

"Yes, I think that's probably right; thank you, dear."

It wasn't lost on Regina that Emma was staring at them in awe of the exchange. She tried not to outwardly show just how much pleasure it gave her to see her wife so happily surprised.

* * *

After dinner, Charlotte brought her dish to the sink, washed it off and placed it in the dishwasher.

"How's studying going?" Emma asked her, as she leaned back on the counter. "You doing alright with everything?"

"Yeah, mom, it's not too bad. I have a test tomorrow...they said I could wait to take it but I think I'd rather just get it over with so I don't fall even more behind."

"That's probably a good idea. But don't you usually have your study group tonight?"

"Usually, yeah."

"You should go," Regina casually added as she walked by with the rest of the plates.

"I'm grounded."

"And a little slow on the uptake, apparently," Emma joked. "I thought you're supposed to have the highest GPA in your class?"

"I'm confused," Charlotte looked at both of her mothers, trying not to get her hopes up. "Are you saying that I can go to study group?"

"Well, kid, it just seems kind of unfair to punish the other study group members—who I'm assuming copy your notes and study questions—for _your_ magical stupidity."

"Yes, dear, I'm not sure the rest of the group should have to suffer for _your_ ill-advised decisions to dabble in the dark arts whilst you were spending time with former-versions of your wonderful parents."

"Are you two being serious right now? I legitimately can't tell if this is a bit, or what? If this isn't true it's really not funny."

"You may drive with your mom to the library," Regina picked the car keys up from the counter and dangled them in front of her daughter. "I expect you to be no longer than a few hours."

"Oh my God," Charlotte gasped, as she accepted the keys. "I'm going to go grab my books before you have time to change your mind."

She sprinted up the staircase and Emma couldn't help but to burst out laughing at the enthusiastic response. "You would think we just granted her permission to go to a rage. I swear, that kid is such a nerd."

"Will you please ask Belle to keep an eye on her? I'm suddenly feeling absurdly anxious about her going out."

"Um, I texted Belle probably two seconds after we decided to let Charlotte go," Emma held up her palm for a high-five. "In-sync parenting, for the win?"

"Yes, my perfect teammate," Regina slapped their palms together. "Thank you."

Charlotte ran down the stairs in a blur, now holding her back-pack in her hands. "I'm ready!"

"I'll be _right_ back," Emma kissed Regina on the lips before following her daughter.

"Hurry."

"Yeah, the thing is, I _always _hurry home to you."

Regina was only alone for a few seconds before Amelia came strolling into the room, dragging her blanket behind her.

"Amelia, sweetheart," she patted her lap, signaling the girl to come closer, "why are you still in your team uniform?"

"I don't know," Amelia shrugged as she climbed onto the couch to snuggle, "I forget."

"You smell like a soccer field, little one. You need a bath."

"Charlotte said she'd give me one."

"Well, it turns out, your sister is ditching us tonight. Do you want to hang out with your moms, instead?"

"Yes!"

"Good, I'm glad to heart it. What would you like to do?"

"I want to build a fort."

"Didn't we just build a fort the other day?"

"Yeah, but you and mom are extra-fun when we build a fort."

"Well, then, my love: a fort it is," she stood up, picking Amelia up in her arms, "but not before your bath."

* * *

Charlotte walked down the staircase on Saturday morning still in her pajamas. She nearly bumped directly into her brother's father who was standing in the hallway trying to balance three trays of coffee in his hands.

"Hey, Neal—need a little help?" She asked, as she relieved him of one of the trays.

"Charlotte, thank you—and it's so good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too. Especially since you brought Starbucks!"

"For everyone, yeah—including your Chai latte. You picked the right tray, actually. Yours is the third one on there, I think."

"_This—_right here_," _she said, as she found her drink and took a sip,_ "this _is why you're my favorite."

"Please don't call me your favorite too loudly, huh?"

"It's on the down-low, don't worry," she promised. And then she stalled as she remembered she hadn't seen him in quite some time—she realized she should probably address the elephant in the room. "By the way, I'm really sorry about your Dad. I'm sorry he had to get locked up and everything."

"I appreciate that. But _I'm_ sorry about my Dad. I'm sorry he wanted to hurt you and your sister. I'm sorry he's the reason you all had to go through this."

"It's not your fault."

"I know—but I'm still sorry."

"Thanks," she accepted, awkwardly. There was one topic, she knew, that could lighten the tension a bit. "Hey, while I was in the past, I met the younger version of you."

"Yeah, Henry told me you had quite the adventure. How was that? How was I?"

"You were freaked out that my moms were together."

"Yeah, well, I was at first…just because, you know, it was weird."

"Because you were still in love with my mom."

"I thought I was, yeah. But I'm obviously really glad she fell for Regina—if she didn't, maybe I wouldn't have met my wife."

"And maybe my moms wouldn't be together."

"You know," Neal considered, "I don't believe that for a second…I think they were always going to be together."

"Yeah," Charlotte replied honestly—because, when she thought about it, she had seen it for herself. That her mothers were, undeniably, always going to end up together—they _did_ end up together, even in the most bizarre circumstances she could've ever imagined. "I think you're probably right."

"Was I at least nice to you, though? Even though I was freaked out?"

"You weren't too bad. But, um, mommy did threaten you one time….actually, so did mom….actually I sort of did, too…"

"_Me?_" Neal feigned shock. "Getting threatened by the Swan-Mills women? I guess not much has changed then?"

"Yeah," she laughed—because she knew that he was joking. But she felt an overwhelming sense of seriousness. Because she knew that he was wrong: everything _had_ changed.

"Neal, dear, please feel free to take your time," Regina's voice suddenly and sarcastically called from the kitchen, "it's not like we're all waiting for you, or anything."

"Ah, it would appear that I'm being summoned by the not-so-patient-queen." he looked down at his watch. "I'm already late. Help me carry this inside?"

"Why are you here so early, anyway? And why does mommy sound so anxious?"

"Uh, well," Neal stalled. "I thought they would've told you…"

* * *

Regina tapped her fingernails anxiously on the table as she waited for Neal to enter. Everyone else was already here: her wife, her son and her in-laws sitting around the table together, with a box of breakfast treats and a rather intimidating task ahead of them.

"Why does it look like I just walked in on a council meeting?" Regina heard her daughter's voice ask as she followed behind Neal, holding a tray of coffee. She had, truthfully, hoped that Charlotte would sleep through this. But, alas, no such luck.

"Because," David replied, seriously, "you did."

Regina, for her part, resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Truthfully, she hated the way the Charmings insisted on sitting around the kitchen table for all of their serious discussions. This wasn't the enchanted forest—this wasn't a round table—but old, royal, habits die hard. And this is how they had been carrying on for years; there was no point in trying to change it now.

"Whoa, wait a minute," Charlotte froze as she noticed the item that sat in the middle of the table. "That looks like Gold's dagger?"

"Yes, dear, it is."

"Why do we have it?" She looked around at her family, fear written all over her face. "Why is it in our house?"

"I took it from him," Snow reminded her, "the night he broke in here. And it's been sitting on the top shelf of our closet ever since."

"So, what are you going to do with it now?"

"That's exactly what we're trying to decide, sweetheart."

"Why don't you sit down, kid?"

"Really, mom? You mean it?"

"Welcome to the big leagues, Charlotte," Henry said—as he pulled out the chair next to him. "I didn't get a seat at this table until I was eighteen."

"Well," Emma teased her son, "that's because girls are smarter and more mature than boys."

"Oh, really, Ma? Are they, really? Is that why you married one?"

"You're hysterical, Henry," Emma deadpanned. "But yes—it is—amongst other reasons you long-ago asked me _not _to share with you….if you'd like to revoke that rule though I'd be happy to tell you all about…"

"_Children_," Regina interrupted them. "The dark one's dagger is on my kitchen table next to a box of doughnuts right now...a modicum of seriousness would be greatly appreciated."

"Sorry, mom."

"Yeah, sorry, mom," Emma echoed. "We'll behave, we swear."

"Thank you," Regina drawled, rolling her eyes. "Now, can we please get back to the problem at hand?"

"I mean," Emma started, "would it really be so bad if we just, like, put it in a safe or something?"

"A safe, Emma?" Neal shook his head, disapprovingly. "Come on, you know it's stronger than that—the second anyone finds out where it is we're screwed or what if someone comes across it accidentally?"

"How do you accidentally come across a safe?" The blonde spat back at him.

"I don't know," Neal replied. "But that dagger is more powerful than all of you, except probably Regina, realize."

"Neal is right," Regina concurred. "Frankly, I'm not comfortable with it being anywhere in Storybrooke."

"But we can't just throw it through a portal," Charming knew. "We can't take the risk that it will end up in the wrong hands in any other world, either."

"Let's just blow it up," Emma half-joked. "Like when Henry tried to blow up magic."

"Thank you, Ma—I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Any ideas, Charlotte?" Snow turned to the teenager, who remained silently overwhelmed, in an attempt to include her.

"Oh, sorry; I have no idea. I'm just used to my moms true love kissing everything away but that's not going to work in this case."

"No, kid, it's definitely not."

"Well, no," Regina processed, "maybe, not _exactly_."

"Oh man, everyone shut the hell up," Emma studied her wife's face. "I _know_ that look…Regina's on to something….twenty-bucks says she figures this out before lunch. Seriously, what do you guys want for lunch? 'Cause we're totally going to have time for it after she figures this out."

"You two," Regina pointed to Emma and Charlotte. "You are both the product of true love."

"Me and mom?"

"Yes, Charlotte, you two are the antithesis of everything this dagger is."

"Yeah, and?" Emma asked. "I don't get it."

"Maybe, just maybe, you can use your magic to destroy it. Then we wouldn't have to worry about what to do with it, would we? Maybe you were both right—maybe we can, sort of, blow it up—and maybe we can, sort of, use true love to do it. The same way you and I destroyed the trigger."

"You think that will work?" Neal asked.

"I think it's a long shot," the former-queen admitted. "But I don't have a better idea."

"Neither does anyone else," Henry added. "I say, go for it."

"If this dagger is so powerful," Emma wondered, "is it going to hurt Charlotte to use her magic on it?"

"I'm not sure, actually, dear. That is a very good point."

"It's fine," Charlotte insisted—her plea not getting her very far. "I'll be fine!"

"No-kid-I don't think so. But I can try it first, yeah? And if it's too painful, or something, she won't join in."

"Emma," Regina argued, "I don't want_ you_ to get hurt, either."

"Yeah but—that's a risk I'm willing to take—if we can destroy this thing once and for all, I mean, that would be sick."

"Very well. I know better than to think I can talk you out of it now."

"Alright," Emma instructed, "everyone up and away from the table."

The group followed her instructions. Except for Regina and Charlotte, who stood directly behind her.

Emma stared down the dagger as if it were a person she was about to tackle to the floor. She took a deep breath and aimed her bright, blue magic at the item. After a short while of attacking the object alone, she called out for her daughter. "Kid, get over here. I think you can handle it."

"You can do it," Regina kissed Charlotte on the forehead before letting her go.

Charlotte nervously walked to the other side of the table—she stood opposite her mom—and aimed her own magic at the dagger.

The item shook on the table—but never lifted—never moved—and after minutes, mother and daughter, sweating and panting stopped their attempt.

"Wow," Charlotte whined, "that's _really_ strong magic."

"Is it too much for you?" Regina immediately rushed to her side. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine and it sort of feels like it was almost working."

"It did feel like it was working," Emma confirmed, "but the key word is _almost_. We're not enough. Regina, I think we need _you_."

"No, I'm not the product of true love."

"Uh, yeah, cool story... but we all know my magic works ten times better with yours. Let me introduce you to exhibit A—her name is Charlotte and we created her. Or would you rather I point you in the direction of the impossible-to-deactivate deactivated-diamond sitting on your ring finger? "

"Emma, love, you don't understand," Regina pleaded. "The magic needed to destroy this dagger—it would have to be entirely _pure_. No matter how much you love me, no matter how much we love each other, my magic was tainted a long time ago. We're talking about the dagger wielded by the man who all but made me the Evil Queen—it's not going to work."

"Mom," Henry encouraged her, "that was a long time ago—you can't know that it won't work."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Henry. But if we're going to add more true love to this equation, your grandparents are probably a better bet than I am."

"So," David concluded, "if it doesn't work with you guys, we'll try next."

"What's the harm in trying?" Snow added. "What's the worst that could happen?"

The worst that could happen, Regina thought, is that everyone in this room could be reminded, even more than they already had been reminded lately, of who she once was.

This failure, she knew, would be the evidence of the fact that you can never, truly, escape the past.

But all eyes were on her—and she couldn't refuse. "Fine."

"Ready?" Emma asked, hope dancing in her eyes.

"I suppose so."

Regina stood next to her daughter and, without warning, shot her magic out of hands. Her wife and daughter immediately joined in.

With the trio's combined effort, the dagger lifted off the table and lingered mid-air.

Regina knew from the pained look on her daughter's face that this was stronger magic than the girl had ever felt.

And, for that, she was grateful.

Because Regina, in contrast, recognized the familiar feeling of this sort of magic immediately.

There was no element of darkness that was new to her. Not even the dark one's dagger. She could still taste it—on her mother's hands and in Rumple's voice.

But that was certainly not what she needed to focus on.

So, instead, she focused on Emma and on Charlotte.

She allowed herself to glance sideways to Henry's face. After all, he was the first one who ever, truly, believed she could do the impossible.

And last, but certainly not least, she pictured Amelia growing up in a world in which this concrete representation of darkness no longer existed.

And, with that, she felt herself thrown backwards.

She felt her body smash into the wall as the dagger imploded in mid-air.

"We did it!" Charlotte enthusiastically jumped to her feet. "It worked."

"Yes," David grinned, and it was obvious to everyone in the room how much this reminded them of that damned trigger—of one of the first times they had all, successfully, worked together, "you _certainly_ did."

Regina caught his gaze and smirked back at him. And then, before knew it, she felt Emma pull her off the ground.

"I mean, really," Emma slung her arm around Regina's waist, "did you ever doubt we would?"

"If you expect me to answer that question with some sort of cliched, nauseating response about how the dark one's dagger gave me pause, you're out of your damn mind, love."

Her response earned her laughs from everyone in the room—and Emma took the opportunity to pull her in closer.

"You just destroyed _actual_ evil," her wife whispered, softly, in her ear. "No matter what you tell yourself late at night—no matter how many times you start to doubt it-you, my queen, do not have even a _millimeter _of darkness left in you."

"I love you," Regina nuzzled her neck, "thank you for always believing in me."

"Moms," Charlotte interrupted their intimate moment, "your rings are glowing again."

"Indeed," Regina noticed the radiating stones, "they are."

Everyone took a step closer to examine the phenomenon they had become accustomed to-yet were still, somehow, amazed by.

Regina looked down at her engagement ring.

And in the reflection of the large diamond, she could see her family.

Exactly as they should be—and as they always would be: together.


	22. Epilogue

**Okay, here we are- the last chapter, for real. I am emotional about it, LOL! I want to seriously thank each and everyone of you. This has been, by far, my favorite story to write. I fell in love with this family in ways I cannot even express. It has been such a great journey. And I'm not ready to let them go. **

**After hearing from a bunch of you, I can promise that this will not be the last of this family in my writing. So, I hope that you'll subscribe.**

**Anyway, tomorrow morning at work I plan on replying to all the reviews from the last chapter and this one. Some of your words have touched my heart very deeply. **

**Sending you all the love and gratitude in the world! - Dakota **

* * *

_**A year (or so) later:**_

Regina watched as the headlights of Charlotte's car shone through the living room window from the driveway—it never failed, the relief she felt at the knowledge that her daughter was home safe.

Simultaneously she felt her wife, nestled in her arms, open her eyes in response to the illumination. "Thank God," Emma muttered. "She's home."

Seconds later, they both heard the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed immediately by familiar footsteps approaching the living room.

"You're still up?" Charlotte looked at the pair of them huddled together on the couch before she glanced to the clock. It read 11:56 PM—she was happy to find she was still four minutes early.

"Of course we are, dear."

"She won't let us sleep until you're in for the night," Emma clarified with a disgruntled groan. "You need an earlier curfew or I'm going to go gray a lot sooner than I should."

"I wouldn't worry, you still look rather blonde to me," Regina lovingly patted her wife's sleepy head before turning back to her daughter. "Did you have a good night, Charlotte?"

"Yeah, definitely," she told them. As was customary, she plopped herself down in between her two mothers. Emma rested her head on Charlotte's shoulder and Regina was quick to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. "It was a fun party."

"Was there drinking, kid?"

"Are you asking me that as my mom or as a cop? Because I'm pretty sure I wasn't invited to the last party because of _you _being the Sheriff."

"Just mom, I promise. Although I think you just answered my question…."

"Yeah, there was drinking," she admitted. "But I was driving so I had an excuse not to."

"You don't need an excuse to not drink, dear. If you say you don't want to, that should be the end of it and…"

"I know, I know, _relax_," Charlotte cut off the imminent lecture before it began. "I just meant it was an _easy_ excuse."

"Alright," Regina accepted, "I understand."

A comfortable silence engulfed the room for a few minutes—Emma fighting the desire to doze off once more, Regina quietly laughing at the failed-attempt, and Charlotte anxiously observing them.

"Are you two, by any chance, awake enough for us to talk about something else?" The teenager finally spoke. "I have something I wanted to ask you."

"Yeah, I'm good," Emma promised as she finally sat up fully—because the question was clearly directed at her. Unlike the savior, Regina was fully awake. "Go for it."

"I mean, it can definitely wait until tomorrow if you're too tired."

"Charlotte—no, let's go," Regina lovingly warned, "out with it already."

"So," the girl timidly began, "I was thinking that, um...I was thinking that I might—well, that it might be time for me to go visit Fairytale Land."

"Yeah?" The subject-matter caught Emma's full attention. "You do?"

"I just feel like I want to see it, like I_ should _see it. I'm seventeen and I've never been to where my entire family is from. I mean half my class has been through the portal just to visit, or whatever. I feel weird that I, of _all _people, haven't gone yet."

"Yes, you can go," Regina said instantaneously. "We appreciate you talking to us about it, but this has always been your choice to make."

"And your grandparents will be thrilled," Emma added.

"They'll come with me, right?"

"Yeah, trust me, kid, they wouldn't miss it."

"Nor would your brother," Regina told her. "He's wanted to take you since you were about two. You should call him tomorrow morning so you can coordinate when he can get off from work."

"What about you guys?"

"What about us, sweetheart?"

"Will you come, too?"

"Oh," Emma furrowed her brow, surprised at the question. "Uh, do you want us to come?"

"I do," Charlotte answered without hesitation. "But not if you don't want to. And I totally get why you wouldn't."

"Alright—um, well, we'll have to talk about it."

But Regina knew that Emma would agree to the trip in a heartbeat—Regina knew that Emma wasn't answering now solely to protect her. And Regina knew, suddenly, what needed to be done.

"No, my love, it's fine," she said. "It's certainly been a while since either of us visited... but I want to go if you want us there, Charlotte."

"Really, mommy?"

"Really," Regina confirmed. "But, it's rather late… so, let's talk about it more in the morning, alright?"

"Thank you. I'm going to go call Henry."

"Kid, it's midnight."

"He's still up," Charlotte assured them. "I was texting him before I drove home."

"So, basically, he was giving you a pep talk?" Emma surmised. "About how to tell us that you wanted to go?"

"Maybe."

"Tell him he's predictable. Also, tell him thanks for ignoring _my_ texts."

"Oh, leave the poor boy alone," Regina playfully swatted Emma's arm. "Just tell him we said to call _us_ in the morning. And don't talk too loud up there; you'll wake your sister."

"I know," she kissed both of her mothers before heading up the stairs. "Good-night."

When Charlotte was out of ear-shot, Emma snapped her head towards Regina, eyes filled with curiosity and concern. "Are you sure about this?"

"Oh, no," Regina admitted. "I'm not sure about it at all."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Look, we don't have to go just because she wants us to. She'll understand if we don't."

"But if she's already decided to make this trip, I think I would rather be there than not," Regina thought out loud. "Wouldn't you?"

"Oh, yeah, of course I would. But what about Amelia? Who are we going to leave her with? There's no way my parents or Henry will stay home for Charlotte's first trip. I mean, I guess, we could ask Ruby?"

"What if we _didn't_ leave Amelia home?" Regina countered.

"You want to bring our six-year-old to Fairytale Land?"

"Well, I certainly don't want to leave her on one side of a portal when her entire family will be on the other."

"Regina, it's safe; we're not going to get stuck there or anything."

"Yes, I know that… but I would be thinking about her the whole time, I wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else. Plus, I'm not sure how we can take the whole family except for her. She'll be upset; she'll feel left out."

"So, um, all of us are going, then?" Emma asked, though she already knew the answer. "Like, as in, a family vacation to the enchanted forest?"

"It would appear that way, yes."

"Do you realize we haven't been on a trip with my parents since Neverland?"

"Yes," Regina said. "I do."

"So, do you think there will be less punching on this trip?"

"Perhaps," Regina smirked. "But not less flirting, I hope?"

"Well, less_ pirate_-flirting."

"Oh, gross," Regina scrunched her nose in disgust. "I was referring to the flirting between _us_. And please _don't_ remind me of the way Hook used to speak to you before I made my intentions clear."

"You mean before he walked in on me spooning you in a tent?"

"Ah, yes, that was an interesting night," Regina recalled, as she stood up and held out her hand. "Let's go to bed, dear. I wouldn't mind being spooned by you right now."

"A family vacation to Fairytale land," Emma repeated, as the idea really began to sink in. She accepted her wife's hand as she thought about just how utterly ridiculous the trip would surely be. "God help us all."

* * *

"Kid," Emma sighed at the sight of Amelia dragging a bag filled to the brim with books into the kitchen, "I already told you, you can't bring that much stuff."

With two days left to go before the trip, everyone was in packing mode. A trip to Fairytale land required more planning than the average vacation, but thankfully they had Regina to act as head organizer.

"But mommy said there's no TV or computers at her old house," the girl protested, as she set down the bag in the middle of the room.

"Yeah, that's true. But you still can't bring all of those—they're too heavy."

"I need _all _of these."

"Nope," Emma refused to cave, "you can pick one of them to bring."

"Only one?!" Amelia shrieked, as though she had just received the world's most devastating news. "What do you expect me to do all day long?"

Their little diva, Emma thought to herself—she was going to be a handful as she got older—the savior could already feel it.

"Oh, I don't know, hang out with your awesome family?"

"But I'll get bored."

"You'll get bored? _Bored_?" Emma scoffed. "Look, kid, come here, would you?"

"What is it, Mom?" Amelia approached her. "You always let me bring my books when we go on long trips."

"This trip is different."

"How?"

"I know it's super hard to imagine because you've never been there, but we're going to a place that is _way_ cooler than anything you've ever read about," Emma explained, as she bent down to meet her daughter's eye level. "You don't need books because we're about to go _live _a book. Isn't that exciting enough for you?"

"Henry's book, right?"

"Yup, that's the one."

"But," Amelia objected, "Charlotte says that book lies."

"Well, yes, she's right. We've talked about that before, remember? How it leaves a lot of stuff out?"

"Why should we visit, then?" The girl inquired. "If _I _don't tell the truth _I _get in trouble."

"Because, Amelia, Mommy and I were both born there—and so were your grandparents. And because, yeah, that book leaves out a lot of important stuff but it's also the reason I came to Storybrooke and it's the reason I met mommy."

"So, then, it's the reason I was born?"

"Yes—exactly, it is. So we like the book—even though we're sort of mad that it forgot to include the chapter about how awesome your other mom is."

"Right," Amelia nodded, with a thoughtful expression. "So, is there _really_ a castle where we're going?"

"Yup—Nana and Pop are going to show you their castle and Mommy will show you hers, too."

"Okay," the girl finally concluded, "I guess I don't need my books, then."

"What if instead of a book, you brought a notebook?" Emma suggested. "And you could write all about our adventures. And, then, one day someone else can read _your _books. All great authors have got to start somewhere—and not many of them get to visit a place like this. You're a lucky kid, you know."

"I know, mom."

"So, how much money do you have saved from your allowance?"

"Eleven dollars and fifty cents."

"Wow, when did you get so rich? Well, you can definitely afford a notebook. I will take you this afternoon, alright?"

"Okay," her daughter bounced up and down with enthusiasm. "I'm going to write a new book that's even better than Henry's book."

"Oh, I'm sure you can write a _much_ better one."

"It will be about you and mommy."

"That'd be awesome. What about us?"

"Your love story," Amelia said, "_duh_."

"Yeah, duh," Emma echoed. "I think mommy would like that very much."

Regina lingered in the hallway, holding a basket of laundry—she hadn't caught the whole conversation, but she had overheard enough—enough to make her, all these years later, have to swallow a lump in her throat and blink back tears at the thought of just how happy she was. Her emotions had been high and intense over the last few days at the thought of the trip—but this was exactly the reminder she needed: a reminder that the past, of course, mattered but it wasn't what defined her. This family defined her. Every single day.

* * *

Regina could hear her heart-beating in her ears as she watched her family run around the fields of Fairytale land in what she considered an absolutely ridiculous make believe battle.

David had Amelia on his shoulders, and the girl was flailing a wooden sword at thin-air. Emma, a few feet away, was refereeing a sword-fight between Charlotte and Henry.

"Emma," Regina called out to her wife, "Emma, _please_ be careful."

"They're fine," Snow, the only other family member who chose to sit-out of the tom-foolery, stood next to Regina. "They know what they're doing."

"Perhaps they do, but I still can't watch this," the former-queen cringed. "That sword is bigger than Charlotte."

"She's a natural with it though."

"She can barely lift it. She won't be able to move tomorrow. I just hope I brought enough aspirin."

"Regina," Snow chuckled, "you've got to _relax." _

"All three of my children are running around with deadly weapons right now; please refrain from telling me to _relax_."

"I don't think Amelia's wooden sword is exactly deadly."

"You don't know that," Regina barked back in defense. "It could be."

"I'm_ so_ glad you two decided to come," Snow said, for what Regina was sure was the fifteenth time in the last hour. "This is really nice."

"Oh, yes, it's just lovely," she replied with biting sarcasm that she couldn't seem to control. "If _only_ we had a tour guide to show them around. And to your left, children, is where your mother poisoned your grandmother. And coming up later we'll all get to sleep in the castle where..."

"No, stop," Snow urgently interrupted. "Come on; don't do that."

"And, why not? It's the truth."

"_Regina_," her mother-in-law begged. She tentatively brushed their hands closer together before finally deciding to interlace their fingers. "Please?"

"I'm sorry," Regina whimpered. The gesture, as unexpected as it was, shocked her back into the reality of the moment. "I am feeling quite on edge."

"I think that's to be expected," Snow told her, refusing to loosen her grip. "Do you need Emma? Would you like me to call her over?"

"No, that won't be necessary," Regina promised.

"Okay, tell me if you change your mind."

"I just keep expecting one of them to turn the corner and start speaking to me."

The confession was out of her mouth before she could think about it—think about the fact that this certainly wasn't a conversation she wanted to have with Snow White. But the words were out, nonetheless, and she couldn't take them back now.

And, besides, it was the truth.

_Cora. Leopold. And all her other demons_—she did, honestly, expect one of them to tap her on the shoulder at any moment.

"But they're not," Snow replied, without missing a beat, without giving in to what had the potential to be an incredibly awkward moment. "You're surrounded by people who love you."

"Yes," Regina knew it to be true—and was grateful to hear it. She couldn't help but to squeeze Snow's hand a bit tighter before exhaling.

"I mean, unless we take a wrong turn somewhere," the woman quipped, bringing them back to their comfort zone. "I'm pretty sure we could still find plenty of people you pissed off around here."

"Oh, shut up," Regina snarled back, "_princess_."

Snow broke out into genuine laughter—but before Regina could smile back at her, Charlotte came running over.

"Mommy," she demanded Regina's attention, "did you see me?"

"Did I see you wielding a giant sword? Yes, I did. Did you see me having a stroke?"

"Did I look good?" Charlotte ignored her mother's question and simply asked another. "Did I look like I knew what I was doing?"

"Yes; I think you have your mom's biceps."

"Thanks," she flexed her arms, showing off her muscles. "Come play with us?"

"I'm afraid swords have never really been my thing, dear."

"So, then, we can do something else. Come, on? Please? Henry said we can take out the horses soon."

"Alright," Regina agreed. "I think I can do that."

"Nana?" Charlotte looked to Snow. "You're coming too, right?"

"Sure, sweetheart, that sounds nice."

"Just try not to fall off," Regina bumped her shoulder against Snow's before letting go of her hand and following her daughter towards the stables that started it all. "No promises on saving your life this time."

* * *

That night, Regina found herself finally relaxing—she had enjoyed the time riding through the forest and couldn't complain about the family dinner, either. More than anything else, though, she enjoyed watching Henry, Charlotte and Amelia bonding and spending time together.

But Emma, as was her nature, watched her like a hawk—monitored her every move, her every breath—to make sure she was truly alright. And even now, alone in their temporary bedroom, the savior wouldn't stop.

"Are you sure you're good to stay here over night?" Emma asked, as she climbed into the bed. "Castles are cold and creepy."

"I'm fine as long as you're nearby," Regina swore. "You just have to stop leaving me alone with your mother."

"Oh, drop the act. I saw you guys holding hands today."

"She attacked me."

"With her hand-holding?" Emma mocked. "Damn, what a bitch."

"It would have been inappropriate to refuse her misguided gesture in front of the children."

"You know, this is starting to sound a lot like when you only liked me _'for Henry's sake_.'"

"_As if_ I was the only one using that excuse as a crutch."

"Um, whatever, you used it more than I did."

"Oh, no way, that is entirely false."

"I don't think it is," Emma smugly countered. "You know, this is a _lot_ better than my first trip here. But it's still not as good as some of our other trips."

"It pales in comparison to the Caribbean."

"We've been on a lot of adventures, you and I."

"We certainly have."

"Do you have a favorite?"

"All of them, love."

"I think that's cheating, Regina."

"I don't think so. Every single day with you is an adventure."

"I'm not sure you're complimenting me right now."

"I am," she said, seriously. "Thank you."

"For what?" Emma wondered.

"For being here—and for all the adventures," Regina kissed her on the lips mid-sentence, "and for all the ones you undoubtedly still have up your sleeve."

"You're welcome."

_"Hey,_" Charlotte lingered in the doorway, watching the sweet-exchange. "Can I interrupt? As usual?"

"Come in," Regina instructed. "Are you comfortable enough in your room?"

"I'm fine," she said. "I just wanted to show you something before I went to bed."

As she walked closer, Regina noticed the book in her daughter's hands. "Isn't that Amelia's journal?"

"It is."

"Stealing your sister's journal already?" Emma joked. "That's impressive considering she's only had it like two days."

"I didn't steal it," the teenager promised as she sat on the end of their bed. "Amelia was reading it to me before and I thought you'd be interested to hear it."

"Alright, kid, let's hear it."

"_Once upon a time_," Charlotte read out loud, "there was a beautiful Queen…"

Regina listened closely to the words, which to her, were the most dazzling ones ever spoken.

She wrapped her arms tightly around Emma and, together, they listened to their daughter read them their very own love story.


End file.
